


can't stop the world (when i'm with you)

by princepixel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Cuddling, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Italy, M/M, Panic Attacks, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Vacation, We got it all folks, im really impatient but it is a slow burn wow amazing, mark has no game though ugh, mark is stressed donghyuck is gay what else is new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princepixel/pseuds/princepixel
Summary: “What’s a boy gotta do to get some good ravioli around here?”Donghyuck laughs, sitting up and throwing Mark’s bag on top of him. “You’ve only seen the shitty tourist traps. Want me to show you a real restaurant?”Or: Mark is a stressed out college student lost in a foreign country, but he finds help...in more ways than one.





	1. la calma prima della tempesta

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my first chaptered fic since the house of anubis message boards days. that is to say: im rusty VFVNFHJ also me writing a ship where renjun isnt involved? shocking i know
> 
> fair warning: there is a bit of italian dialogue in this fic-- i've been learning italian for several years but i am soooo far from fluent so pls be kind to me here jfnbfjnf i will be putting translations at the end of each chapter though! but if you want to get the full experience while you read, i checked and it all means exactly what i want it to when run through google translate...that may or may not become important ;)
> 
> i listened to a lot of day6 and rainy lofi hip hop mixes while writing djncdjn highly recommend
> 
> onward!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is perhaps a little bit dumb.

“Mark, what the _hell_ are you still doing here?”

 

Mark groans, stirring from a deep sleep. He yawns and stretches, sitting up from where he was slumped over in the desk chair. A stray piece of paper stuck to his forehead slides off and flutters down to the table. “Ugh...what’s going on?”

 

Renjun gives him a hard stare. “What’s ‘going on’ is that you’ve been here for seven hours straight.”

 

“Oh, shit!” Mark jolts in his seat as if electrocuted, shuffling papers around frantically, “I haven’t finished organizing the budgets for the clubs this semester, or contacting the sponsors for the Walk for Cancer, and I still need to find a place to host the can drive!” Mark pushes off from his desk in the wheeled chair and grabs a file from a nearby shelf, slamming it onto the wooden surface. “Fuck, don’t even get me _started_ about trying to tame the unruly swim team. I can’t even make them pay attention to our meet schedules, _which I still need to finalize_.”

 

Mark opens the file and begins to pull forms out of it. “These are for the...wait no those are for the can drive, these are for...we have _another_ fundraiser? Since when?” he starts scribbling furiously onto the sheets of paper in front of him.

 

Renjun’s eyes dart around the room, taking it all in. The office of the student council president is a certified _trainwreck_. Drawers are left half open, random papers spilling out from every side. Those that _are_ closed have innumerous manila folders crushed between the drawer and the face of the filing cabinet. He can’t imagine how many things Mark must have lost to the abyss that is this room.

 

Renjun moves a few textbooks from in front of the bookcase in order to put them where they belong. He discovers, hidden behind the stack, at least seven water bottles, four cans of energy drinks, two small bottles of some suspicious unlabeled drink, a jar of pepper, three GoGurt tubes, and nine large coffee cups, all empty. Renjun shudders at the thought of Mark mixing those into some heart stopping insomniatic nightmare elixir that would probably take, like, twelve years off his life.

 

The singular lamp on Mark’s desk casts the room into a warm glow as the clock ticks past 2 am.

 

“Mark. You need a vacation.”

 

“What do you mean? I can handle this. This is fine. I feel great. Peachy, if you will.”

 

“Mark it’s the middle of the night, you decided to take mostly 8 am classes which _everyone_ knows to avoid, I don’t think I’ve seen you leave this room in the past four days, and you cannot even _begin_ to convince me that you’ve been sleeping more than two hours a night.” Renjun holds up a hand at Mark’s protests. “Don’t even try. I’m literally dating your roommates. You can’t hide anything from me.”

 

“It’s only, like, seven o’clock, right? That’s fine. I have plenty of time to finish some of these forms, make some calls and still get some sleep before practice.”

 

Renjun stands up and moves to the window, unceremoniously throwing up the blinds. “Actually, it’s 2 am.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

Mark turns back to the damn papers.

 

“Why won’t you just listen to me?” Renjun whines, sitting back down and leaning his head against Mark’s shoulder, “You know I’m right. You need to take a break.”

 

“Can’t. Too much to do. I’ll rest when I’m done.”

 

“We both know that’s a lie. You’ll never be done.”

 

Mark has a finger in nearly every activity on campus: from the student council, to running the swim team, to orchestra, theater, dance, academic clubs, community service clubs, volunteer work, and beyond, not even counting his double major in biochemical engineering and nuclear physics. Renjun didn’t think it was even possible to do that, but when Mark wants something, he gets it. He has _zero_ clue what Mark is going to do with those degrees, and at this point he’s too afraid to ask. For the record, Mark probably doesn’t know either.

 

“Please just let me work.”

 

“I’m _not_ going to let you destroy yourself!”

 

“Renjun!”

 

Mark, dramatic as always, flings his arms out in frustration. His hand accidentally swats the forlorn coffee cup on the edge of the table, sending it flying. Within seconds, the majority of the remaining papers on his desk are soaked in stale caramel mocha frappuccino with seven shots of espresso. It’s a wonder Mark even fell asleep with that stuff running through his veins. Renjun suspects not sleeping for fifty-three hours will do that to a person.

 

“Oh, god, look what you did!” shouts Mark, scrambling to save his papers, “I’m sunk. Oh my god, I’m so dead, I’m never going to finish all of this if I have to start from scratch!”

 

Renjun heaves a big sigh and stands up, pulling Mark with him. He has to physically cage Mark in with his arms to get him to stop reaching for his paperwork. Renjun really isn’t that strong, so he’s lucky Mark is extremely weak and sleep deprived.

 

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” Mark mumbles faintly.

 

“We are _worried_ about you, Mark. You don’t have to take this all on by yourself. You’re the student council president, not the sole member.” Renjun takes a breath and rummages through his jacket pockets, producing a folded up pamphlet and smacking it against Mark’s chest.

 

“What is this?”

 

“I know it’s late, but I’m pretty sure you haven’t forgotten how to read.”

 

Mark gives him an offended glare and reluctantly examines the creased paper. “‘Traveling with SMU: Weeks of Fun Cultural Experiences-- More Than Twenty Different Options Offered’? Really?” he blanches at Renjun’s serious look, “You deadass want me to go to a whole different _country_?”

 

Renjun nods emphatically. “Well, maybe not exactly this program, if you don’t want to, but something similar. It doesn't need to even be outside of the country, just _somewhere_ different. Trust me-- you need this. You need to take a step back.”

 

Mark thinks about the stack of coffee-soaked paperwork on his desk, the absolute horror the office is, the disarray his room must be in, his ever piling up homework, and his overwhelming club responsibilities. It...might not be such a bad idea to escape for a little bit.

 

And, okay. Maybe Mark is also a _little_ bit scared of Renjun.

 

He folds the pamphlet back up and puts it in his pocket, resolving to speak with the exchange trip organizers within the next few days. Maybe Renjun is right. “Fine. I’ll think about it.” He sinks back in his chair, head tipping back, index and middle fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Beside him, Renjun snickers.

 

“What are you laughing at me for? Am I really that pathetic?”

 

Renjun reaches over to thumb at his cheek, “You have desk imprints all over your face.”

 

Mark slams his head onto his desk.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

And that is how Mark finds himself waking up at four in the morning to catch a flight to Milan, Italy.

 

“Good morning sunshine!” Renjun calls cheerily, drawing out each syllable. He throws open Mark’s curtains with a flourish, not that it does anything. It’s pitch black outside.

 

It’s been a mere four days since Renjun burst into his office and forced him into the exchange program. Mark called the department at SMU that should be responsible for the exchange program, but they just laughed at him the minute he said his name, and said, “You have very caring and organized friends. Organized and forceful.” Mark can’t help but agree.

 

Turns out Renjun had primed everything with them a week prior. He really was not going to take no for an answer.

 

Mark does end up getting to choose one thing, though: the destination. Mark isn’t the type to half ass things. If he’s being forced into a vacation, he’s going to go somewhere far and interesting, certainly out of the country. However, he honestly doesn’t care that much about where that is. A vacation is a vacation, right?

 

On a whim, he picks Italy. It’s the first one his eyes land on when he skims over the list, and Mark is the type of hopeless romantic that believes in astrology and fate and that everything happens for a reason, so he usually trusts his gut. Or, in this case, his random ass first choice.

 

Mark gets good grades, but he isn’t necessarily known for making the smartest choices.

 

“Maaaaark! Get up! You don’t want to miss your flight!” teases Jaemin, one of his roommates, sauntering into the room. He rests his chin on Renjun’s shoulder and wraps his arms around the smaller boy’s waist.

 

“What a tragedy that would be,” Mark mutters under his breath, monotone. After literally two seconds of being alone, Jeno, Mark’s other roommate, also wanders in, surely in search of his boyfriends. He laces one hand with Renjun’s and one with Jaemin’s, looking like the happiest guy on the planet, just standing there at four in the goddamn morning. God, the three of them are truly disgusting.

 

“Come on, up, up!” Jeno tugs the covers off of Mark and throws them to the side, ready to physically pick the boy up and drag him out. Mark doesn’t doubt that he could do it if he really wanted to. Jeno could probably throw him into next week.

 

Jaemin pushes Mark towards the bathroom and fetches his bag from the side of the room, dashing out into the hallway to place it by the door. Renjun shoves a toothbrush in Mark’s mouth.

 

“Jesus christ,” Mark says around a mouthful of toothpaste, still being lowkey choked by Renjun, “you guys are certainly enthusiastic. It really feels like you just want me out of here so you guys can spend a romantic two weeks getting freaky without me in the way.”

 

The three college students stop and look at each other with slightly guilty looks. “Well, that’s not, like. The _whole_ reason. You’ve been super miserable lately, dude.” Jeno pats his shoulder.

 

“I’m gonna come back to my own room, right? Renjun’s not gonna have taken over by the end of this?”

 

“Probably?”

 

That is not comforting in the slightest. Mark sighs and rinses out his mouth. He shoves the Terrible Trio out of his room so he can throw on some comfortable sweatpants and an old Red Velvet t-shirt. It’ll be a long flight.

 

Jaemin drives the four of them to the airport to see Mark off. They drop him off at the front, park, and then walk him in, helping him check his luggage. Though Mark has flown plenty of times, bouncing between his hometown and New York, he rarely flies alone.

 

“Bye, Mark!”

 

Mark drags his carry on bag behind him, trudging forward a few steps. He stops to look back pitifully, mustering up his best puppy eyes. “Can’t believe you’re just gonna let me go like this.”

 

“Have a good trip Morkie-pie!”

 

Another few steps. “All on my own...in a foreign country...sad and confused…”

 

“Let us know all about how right we were when you come back.”

 

A couple more feet. “My best friends...abandoning me...to have their steamy love affair...betrayed by the people closest to me…”

 

“You’ve already paid for the trip.”

 

Fed up, Mark whirls around, hands flailing. “Well who is going to take care of student council? Or the sports teams? Or the fundraisers? Or the--”

 

“Mark!” Renjun takes him firmly by the shoulders, shaking him a bit. “Stop worrying for once, take some risks, and enjoy the trip. I _promise,_ it will be worth every second.”

 

And with that, they send Mark on his way.

 

(Literally. They have to push him halfway to the gate.)

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

“--We will be landing in ten minutes, destination time 19:00. The skies are a little hazy, weather is mostly cloudy with some showers. For our Italian citizens returning, welcome back. For our visitors, have a wonderful trip. Thank you for flying British Airways. _Siamo arrivato in Milano._ ”

 

Mark stretches and yawns, unwinding from his little position all curled up on the tiny airplane seat. There are some advantages to being relatively small and flexible-- he was able to pull off some truly impressive gymnastics to get into comfortable sleeping positions for the flight. He had a five hour flight from New York to London, where he had a brief, uneventful layover before boarding the plane to Milan.

 

Mark retrieves his carry on bag from the overhead compartments with a little difficulty (there are also some disadvantages to being relatively small) and stumbles off the plane, exhausted from the time change. After a brief heart stopping moment where he thought he lost his luggage in the bag claim, Mark makes his way outside, walking aimlessly down the street.

 

Mark quickly realizes he has _no goddamn clue what he’s supposed to do now._

 

Uneasy, he drops his luggage at his feet and pulls out his phone, dialing the first and only person on his speed dial list: Renjun. (Who else, honestly.) “Renjun, _help_ ,” is how Mark decides to start the call because only Mark can really fuck up a greeting like that.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Was I supposed to, like, meet up with someone? At the airport?”

 

“Um, I don’t really know. Weren’t you supposed to get a tour guide?”

 

Mark blinks. “I have no idea.”

 

“Okay...Where are you?”

 

“Not in the airport anymore.”

 

A smack and an exasperated yell echos faintly over the line. Renjun facepalming really doesn’t calm any of Mark’s anxiety with this whole situation.

 

“Alright. Start by walking back to the airport and trying to see if there’s anyone representing SMU there.”

 

Mark walks back the way he came, keeping Renjun on the line for moral support. “...I don’t see anyone here. Oh, god, am I alone?”

 

Mark can hear a rustling of papers from over the line. “I’m looking into this program, hang on. You have euros, right?”

 

Mark checks the little ~~purse~~ _satchel_ he has tucked underneath his clothes with his passport and money. Yeah, he knew enough to at least grab plenty of euros to last the trip. He hums his affirmative.

 

“Well I’ve got some news for you. Yeah, you _were_ supposed to meet someone at the airport who was going to take you to your first hotel, in Venice. However...that was it. As the fine print of the program reads, ‘SMU prides itself on allowing students complete creative freedom of direction of the trip. We arrange the arriving and departing flights, along with the first hotel, but everything after that is up to the student’s individual choices and research. For example, art students can focus more on the galleries, while language majors can choose to instead immerse themselves in the culture.’”

 

“So you’re saying I’m completely stranded in a foreign country with absolutely zero plans.”

 

“Essentially...yes.”

 

“At least I have you, right? Even if it’s over the phone.”

 

Renjun lets out a nervous chuckle. “About that. Um, Mark, did you ever set up an international data plan?”

 

No. No, he did not.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“You might want to get off the line. You’re probably millions in debt by now. Bye!”

 

“Wait-- Renjun!”

 

“Calm down, you’ll be fine. You’re a smart kid, Mark, you’ll figure something out. And if not, just find _any_ building with wifi and call one of us and we’ll lend you a hand. No sweat.”

 

Mark sighs. “Thanks, Renjun. And...I’m sorry for how I acted before I left.”

 

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for not scrutinizing the program further. Now, go conquer Italy, tiger!”

 

With a click, Renjun is gone, and Mark is officially all alone in an unfamiliar country.

 

It begins to rain. Perhaps Italy feels some semblance of pity for the poor lost boy.

  


                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

Within just a few seconds of walking down the streets of Milan, one of the most important cities in Italy (according to the frantic Google searches he’s making as he goes), Mark remembers that being in an unfamiliar territory is not his biggest problem.

 

He can’t fucking speak a _word_ of Italian.

 

Countless people have given him odd looks or stopped to ask him questions throughout the walk, probably due to the fact that a very obviously not-Italian boy is pulling a huge suitcase and a carry on bag through the streets of Milan at nine in the evening, and in the _rain_ no less.

 

Each time, Mark stares at them, dumbfounded. He should be able to pick up at least a little bit, but Mark has always been a little bit hopeless with languages. He eventually just shakes his head enough that the people leave him alone. He’s lucky that Italian people are so expressive with their gestures. Actually, he’s just lucky because he’s spent an hour wandering around a bustling Italian city and still hasn’t gotten robbed yet.

 

It’s the little victories in life sometimes.

 

Mark is so absorbed in the fascinatingly disorienting street signs (they’re all in Italian. It seems like that would be obvious, but somehow it’s still really cool.) that he doesn’t even realize he’s wandered closer and closer to the main road. Mark’s foot slips off the curb and he stumbles into the street.

 

A horn blares, and lights illuminate the side of his vision. Confused and out of it as he is, Mark’s sleep addled brain just sort of assumes that the car is going to stop.

 

It doesn’t.

 

“ _Hey!”_

 

A sharp tug at his jacket yanks him backwards. A thin arm wraps around his shoulders as he’s thrown off the road back onto the sidewalk. The driver of the car zooms by in a rush of squealing tires, flinging quick, angry Italian words out the window that Mark could only assume were swears.

 

He looks up at the person who dove at him to get him out of danger, who is also throwing rapid Italian at his face. And... _wow_. He swears the guy has a halo. Either that, or it’s the fact that Mark is sprawled on the rough pavement and his savior is crouched over him, a bright street lamp positioned directly behind him. Mark also may have hit his head. Just a little. He’s probably fine.

 

The stranger leans a bit further over him, pretty pink lips moving a mile a minute-- is he wearing lip gloss?-- but Mark can’t take in a word he’s saying (not that he would have understood it anyways). He vaguely notices the expensive looking camera hanging from a strap looped around the boy’s neck, but otherwise Mark is completely lost in the stranger’s beautiful brown eyes. He can’t be much older than Mark himself, with his soft reddish brown hair and round, sparkling eyes.

 

Mark is really, _really_ tired. And probably concussed.

 

“ _Cosa stavi pensando? Che diavolo ѐ successo?”_ the stranger is shouting as Mark starts to tune in.

 

Mark, completely overwhelmed and exhausted over having a apparent near death experience so soon after becoming utterly lost and directionless, with nothing but a hand me down suitcase and a Red Velvet shirt to his name, promptly bursts into tears. He can’t even understand this dude and he already feels so scolded.

 

The stranger’s face softens in an instant. He helps Mark up with one hand, the other going to his shoulder to steady the boy. With a look of concentration passing over his face, he starts to speak slowly. “You...speak English?”

 

“ _Yes_ , yes oh my god I speak English.” Finally there is someone who Mark can understand.

 

“Don’t you know you can’t just cross streets in Italy? Cars are not going to stop for you.” the stranger lectures quietly, again blessedly in English. Mark sort of doesn’t even care anymore that he’s being told off by a random Italian passerby, he’s just comforted to hear his native tongue.

 

“No. I didn’t know. Actually, I know literally _nothing_ about this country, and now I’m stuck here for over a week. _I’m completely lost._ ” Mark moans forlornly, head in his hands. He’s so fucked. To make matters worse, he’s now spilling his miserable story to a complete stranger. Mark has officially crossed the border into totally pathetic territory.

 

The boy looks conflicted for a moment. Mark watches the emotions fly across his face before he steps one foot into the street, waving wildly. Mark slowly gets a sense of what’s going on when what seems to be a taxi pulls up next to the red haired boy. The boy throws his own bag in the back seat, and then turns and extends a hand to Mark. On second thought, Mark still has no idea what’s going on.

 

Mark blanches and points to himself, disbelieving. The boy nods. “Are you coming or not?”

 

“What-- the-- I don’t even _know_ you!”

 

“My name is Donghyuck. You can call me Haechan, Hyuck, Prince Hyuck, My Hero, Hyuckie, Sunshine, Beyoncé’s First Born Son, My Knight In Shining Armor...Whatever you prefer.” Donghyuck gives a little grin and bows, hand fluttering dramatically before landing right over his heart.

 

At Mark’s uneasy look, he continues. “Look, you seem a little lost. Allow me to guide you around, at least for tonight. I promise you’ll be safe with me. I know that sounds like a stretch...but seriously. I was just about to go to a room booked in a hotel near here, you can tag along. If I’m correct...it doesn’t seem like you have many other options?”

 

The boy-- _Donghyuck_ is right. Mark doesn’t even know where to begin booking a hotel in these parts, or this country in general, and he doesn’t want to accidentally end up bunking in a place where he could get killed. He probably has more of a chance at survival with Donghyuck than without him. Not to mention, the dude literally just pulled him out of traffic. How bad could he really be?

 

Mark normally would never just trust a stranger like that, let alone such a beautiful stranger, but Donghyuck is smiling widely at him in a way that makes him feel like everything will be okay, he knows the area, and most importantly he can _speak Italian._ Mark could literally cry in relief. So he does. Again.

 

Donghyuck nods towards his still outstretched hand, eyebrow quirking slightly in challenge.

 

(Mark really must have hit his head for even considering it.)

 

Renjun’s voice rings in his head, louder than the warning bells.

 

_Stop worrying for once, take some risks, and enjoy the trip._

 

Mark takes Donghyuck’s hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Siamo arrivato in Milano _\- We have arrived in Milan__
> 
> _Cosa stavi pensando? Che diavolo ѐ successo? _\- What were you thinking? What the hell happened?__
> 
> __so most of this is actually based off my own trip to italy (minus the romance rip), i've been thinking of editing together the videos i took and putting the link here so yall have a visual of the places they go! lemme kno if thats something youd be interesting in hfjnskjfnkjfn i have about 35k of this written so there is So Much More to come, but i'll be moving into school really soon so,, please be gentle with me about updates lmao... the next update should be pretty soon bc this was just an intro hehe !! i hope you'll stick with me through it bc this fic is like my baby_ _
> 
> __a big thank u to eston for telling me to write this when i first got the idea and to sage for validating me enough 2 post it <3_ _
> 
> __drop a comment if you like it so far, and come chat with me/ask me questions/suggest things !!_ _
> 
> __twitter: pixeljunnie  
>  curiouscat: pixinoa  
> tellonym: diotima_ _


	2. la prima notte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark gets to know this mysterious Donghyuck a little more. Well, at least he tries.

The night is quiet. Mark stares out the window in the backseat of the taxi, too uncomfortable to make eye contact with the boy lounging in the seat next to him.

 

Holy fucking christ Italians drive _crazily._ The taxi driver swerves from side to side and weaves between lanes. At one point Mark is pretty sure they are driving over train tracks-- and not abandoned ones, either. He has no idea where they are or where they're going. It's better to not ask at this point.

 

The little voice in the back of his head (which sounds suspiciously like his overly protective brother Taeyong) urges him to at least figure out a little bit about the boy he’s going to spend the night with.

 

Holy _shit_. He’s really about to spend a night in a random Italian hotel with a random Italian boy he met on the streets. He’s not sure if this is what Renjun meant by taking risks, but whatever.

 

Mark steels himself, and with the Google Translate app acting as his moral support, he turns to Donghyuck. Said boy is reclined all the way back, feet propped up on the divider between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. The pose looks vaguely uncomfortable, but he looks committed to it, and he doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.

 

“Uh… _quanti tu…_ age?” Mark flounders, typing furiously, “I mean, _quanti anni hai?”_

 

Donghyuck gives him a blank look before his face breaks into an amused grin, “I speak English, dumbass.”

 

Mark wants to die, “...Right.”

 

His accent is cute. Mark decidedly ignores that thought. The driver swerves again, forcing Mark to pause the totally deep and meaningful conversation to hold onto the edge of his seat in terror. He could die here. He peers around the taxi, an unflattering shade of yellow with mysteriously stained leather seats. He could really die here.

 

“If you must know, I’m nineteen. I turn twenty in a few months.”

 

“Oh!” Mark blinks quickly. Donghyuck looks a lot younger, honestly, “You’re only a little younger than me. I’m also nineteen.”

 

“Cool.”

 

They are quiet for a second, before Donghyuck looks at him with a funny grin. “Also, you don’t pronounce the ‘h’.”

 

“What?”

 

“ _Quanti anni hai’; ‘_ How old are you’, _”_ he says, the words flowing off his tongue gracefully, “You don’t pronounce the ‘h’ in _‘hai_ ’.”

 

“Thanks, I guess." Mark wants to throw himself out the taxi window. Actually, that's probably safer than staying inside the vehicle. "Anyways, what do you...you know, _do_?” he waves a hand around, hoping to convey his question. Mark really isn’t the best at speaking, even if it is just in English. Poor Mark.

 

Donghyuck taps the camera around his neck. “Well, I’m in college for international relations and photography, if that’s what you’re asking. I was out on an assignment-- my final, actually-- taking photos of the bustling Italian streets and nightlife, when I met your dumb ass.”

 

“I’m in nuclear physics and biochemical engineering.” Donghyuck didn't ask, but Mark figured he'd tell him anyways. He's not sure why.

 

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Gross, a STEM major.”

 

Common sense says to not pick a fight with someone he just met, let alone a stranger who whisked him off the streets at random and who he will later be sharing a hotel room all alone with.

 

Mark, notably, has zero common sense.

 

“Hey! STEM is a noble and intelligent field to go into!”

 

“Boring.” Donghyuck sticks out his tongue.

 

“What the hell do _you_ know, anyways.” Mark bites.

 

“More than you, obviously.”

 

“Says who!”

 

“Says me, the guy who pulled you off the streets and is now giving you a roof over your head!”

 

Mark harrumphs and slumps back into his seat. He really can’t argue with that one, but god damn does he wish he could. He lets a few seconds go by, picking at the artsy holes in his jeans. He flicks away a stray thread. “So, what’s, like, your _story_?”

 

“God, what are you, 73 Questions by Vogue?”

 

“Fine, jeez. Be all mysterious, or whatever.” Mark huffs. Great, he’s stuck with a total asshole for a roommate.

 

Donghyuck’s phone rings, barely blaring the first notes of Married to the Music by SHINee before he declines the call without even glancing at the device. Weird.

 

The taxi driver speeds up without warning. Mark slams back into the seat, startled. The car bumps up onto the curb and then off again, the entire vehicle shaking side to side. Mark hates that Donghyuck looks absolutely unbothered.

 

“What the _fuck_ is this driving?!”

 

Donghyuck yawns. “Oh, get used to it. What, you gonna get sick on me?”

 

“Fuck off. They don’t drive like this back home.”

 

They narrowly squeeze between two cars in the adjacent lane. It’s really a miracle this guy still has both rearview mirrors (though one looks like it’s hanging on for dear life).

 

Mark leans over as Donghyuck switches the song on his phone.

 

“No way. Did you really just skip ‘Red Flavor’ by Red Velvet?”

 

“Yeah? It’s their worst title track, hands down.”

 

Mark gasps, hand on his chest. “You take that back!”

 

“Never! Bad Boy reigns supreme.”

 

“Ugh, you are _such_ a fake Reveluv! I bet you only started stanning in Peek-A-Boo era after Joy in the rainbow dress went viral.”

 

Now it’s Donghyuck’s turn to look affronted. “How dare you! I’ve been a loyal fan since _predebut_ , asshole! I bet-- _I bet you’re an OT4 stan!”_

 

“Wh-- Yeri is a _gift!_ Now you’ve done it, you little--!” Mark lunges for Donghyuck, but is thwarted when the car makes a sharp turn. He’s thrown against the window, and then back crushed up against Donghyuck. He pushes off of him with a disgusted huff and turns back to staring out the window.

 

Whatever. This is only for one night.

 

Mark, despite his terror of dying stranded with a huge jerk in a tiny Italian taxi, nods off. He’s had an exhausting day. Finally, after what seems like hours, they grind to a screeching halt in front of a quaint two story inn.

 

The taxi driver looks back at them with a grin. He gestures to the watch on his wrist proudly, “ _Record!_ ”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

Mark is in charge of getting their luggage while Donghyuck checks into the hotel, which he had apparently arranged the night previous. Mark doesn’t truly process those implications until he’s standing in the doorway to the run down room.

 

“Donghyuck, what the fuck.”

 

“Hey hey, didn’t I say you could just call me ‘Prince Hyuck?’ No need for the formalities.”

 

“I’m serious. What the hell is this.”

 

Mark is staring out at a tiny room with one singular bed. _One bed_. That’s it. No couch, only a tiny, sad looking chair in the corner that’s truly more of a glorified rickety stool. There’s certainly not enough floor room to spread out an air mattress or a sleeping bag (not that Mark brought either of those. He was never the most prepared of people-- perhaps Mark could have benefited from a little Boy Scouts training back in the day.)

 

Donghyuck shifts uncomfortably, looking genuine for once. “Sorry...I had this room booked from the other night, and they’re out of rooms here tonight.”

 

Mark sighs and drops his luggage by the dresser. While Donghyuck washes up, Mark unpacks just enough to grab his pajamas and toothbrush before heading into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He is so, so tired.

 

The bathroom door doesn’t even lock. Mark stares at the haggard face in the mirror. He's greasy and achy from the long flight, face swollen from crying, and still drenched from the rain.  _What the hell did I get myself into?_

 

When he exits, he is met with Donghyuck smoothing out one of the bed’s blankets onto the very limited floor space. Mark stands on the bathroom tiles, mouth hanging open in shock. “What are you doing?”

 

“Hm?” Donghyuck looks a little sheepish, “Well, uh. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable? I’m pretty small, I can fit down here. Not to mention, this whole situation is sort of my fault? I mean. I booked the room.”

 

Mark marches over and snatches the blanket off the floor, throwing it back onto the bed. “No.”

 

“No?” Donghyuck’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Then...you want me to sleep in the bathtub or something? Jeez, you’re tough to please.”

 

“No! I mean...we can just. Share it? If you want?” Mark can’t meet his eyes, voice wavering. He can’t _believe_ he’s suggesting this. From Donghyuck’s little squeak, he supposes Donghyuck can’t believe it either.

 

“How come? I thought you didn’t trust me. Seriously, I mean it when I say I’m not going to pressure you into anything.”

 

Mark sighs with the exhaustion of ten thousand elderly grandfathers, “Well, you don’t know me any better than I know you. For all you know, I could be some maniac, but you literally rescued me off the streets anyways. I...I owe you. Plus,” Mark turns red and scratches at the back of his neck, angling his body away from Donghyuck. He pats rather aggressively at the comforter, “I, uh, can’t spare any of the blankets. It’s cold in this place.”

 

Donghyuck snickers but doesn’t call him out on any of it. He looks thoughtful for a moment, concern pulling at his features. “Hey, Mark, when we met--”

 

“You mean like, three hours ago?”

 

“--Yeah, whatever. When we met, you said you were stranded and alone for the next week or so. Do you really not have anywhere to go?”

 

“...Not really.”

 

Donghyuck tilts his head a bit. “How does that even happen?”

 

Face flushing in embarrassment, Mark reluctantly explains the situation to him. “I took on too many responsibilities at school and my friends came up with this last minute vacation plan. It wasn’t too well researched.”

 

Donghyuck fiddles with his fingers for a moment, looking nervous for the first time since Mark has met him. “I know I only offered you a place to stay for tonight, and we’ve already, uh. Had our differences. But I’m actually going to be travelling all over the country for my photography final. I do have cities and landmarks all picked out and stuff, but it’s a completely self run project and trip. Would you...would you like to join me?”

 

Oh, god. Is that really a good idea? Joining a boy he just met on a road trip all around a country he is completely unfamiliar with?

 

At the pained, kind of constipated look that crosses Mark’s face, Donghyuck rushes to amend his statement. “I mean! You totally don’t have to. I understand if you don’t want to tag along with some random stranger. You don’t have to tell me now, but I’ll be leaving for Venice tomorrow. So. Your call, dude.” Donghyuck gives him a two fingered salute and slips into the bed without another word.

 

Mark, conflicted as he is, is about to do the same and leave the angsting to the morning, when the nearly dead phone in his hand rings. He goes to decline the call out of sheer exhaustion, but he notices the zoomed in photo of Moomin used for the profile picture and whines. He can’t deny a call from Renjun, no matter how late. The boy can be scary when ignored, and Mark usually prefers all his limbs to be intact.

 

He quickly connects to the hotel wifi using a laminated sheet of paper he finds tacked to the door, and sneaks into the bathroom after making sure he isn’t disturbing Donghyuck.

 

(Mark doesn’t know why he cares.)

 

“Mark!” Renjun’s relieved voice filters through the line, “You aren’t dead yet! Congrats.”

 

“Thanks,” says Mark dryly.

 

“Seriously. It’s so good to hear your voice. Aaaand in even better news, I contacted the travel agency and found your tour guide and sorted everything out! Just send me your location, and I can have the guide pick you up in the morning and you’ll be on your merry way. The whole trip is all planned out, just how you like it. I can even send you the schedule of cities and landmarks.”

 

Mark bites his nail, peering into the bedroom where Donghyuck lies sleeping. He shuts the bathroom door again with a soft click, thinking deeply.

 

Donghyuck may be sort of annoying and have poor taste in music (Red Flavor was absolutely the bop of the summer, no doubt about it) but he seems kind enough, knows his way around, is really cute, and is willing to tolerate Mark for at least the next week or so. He has a vague schedule set up, but it’s not planned down to the last second like Mark is used to. Donghyuck is spontaneous and caring enough to pick up a crying stranger from the streets and offer him a spot in his travels. He’s new and unpredictable and _terrifying._

 

And perhaps that’s a good thing. Mark came here for a change of pace, after all.

 

“...Thank you so much, Renjun, but that won’t be necessary.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I really appreciate you doing all that. Like, thank you so, so much for going through all the trouble and all, but it won’t be needed. I...found my own tour guide of sorts.”

 

“Oh? You mean you found a cute boy?” the teasing in Renjun’s voice truly cannot be dampened by the distance. Sometimes Mark thinks it’s a superpower of his.

 

Mark splutters. “W-well I mean-- _sort of?_ ”

 

“Hang on, you’re _serious_? You, _Mark Chad Lee,_ are running off in a foreign country with a cute stranger? You’re kidding me. Who are you, why do you have this phone, and what the hell have you done with my Mark?!”

 

“Renjun, calm down! I’m...I’m in good hands. Uh, I think.”

 

“You mean cute hands. Wait, you aren’t just going to leave me hanging, are you? You gotta tell me everything about this guy!”

 

“Haha, about that-- yeah okay Renjun gotta go now!”

 

“What do you m--”

 

“Huh those international rates are crazy, right? Okay see you in a week-ish please cancel that other tour guide haha cool alright bye bye miss you lots!” Mark rushes out in a huge breath and kills the call, silencing Renjun’s protests. He juggles the phone from hand to hand for a few moments. The clock ticks over to one in the morning.

 

He thinks he made the right decision.

 

Mark exits the bathroom and slides in on the other side of the bed, making sure to leave plenty of space in between the two of them (it isn’t an easy feat. The bed is really only made for one.) Mark closes his eyes and allows the exhaustion from his emotional roller coaster of the day, along with a healthy dose of jet lag, carry him off to some well-deserved, _restful_ sleep-- meaning, sleep not interrupted by the jostling of a crazy taxi driver or a pestering travel buddy.

 

Unbeknownst to Mark, the broken lock on the bathroom door had allowed it to slip open a crack. Mark, smart as he is, is not smart enough to take his phone off speakerphone (and may be a little deaf as well). Donghyuck feels the warm body settle in beside him and falls asleep with a soft smile on his face.

 

Mark is staying with him.

 

~~And he thinks Donghyuck is cute.~~

 

 _Mark is staying with him_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ot5 red velvet forever bitch
> 
> i picked chad for marks middle name because its such a generic straight white boy name and it made me laugh JNBFJN anyways a bitch is moving into college tomorrow but i should have enough down time to put a chapter up within a week <3
> 
> comments/questions appreciated!!


	3. venezia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh HI college is already absolutely crazy and its only orientation week. i have prewritten chapters but i gotta edit them and im AAAAA hopefully i can jump back into writing once class starts and i get a routine going
> 
> im hella tired rn but ill edit this later zzzzzzzzz
> 
>  
> 
> STREAM WE GO UP BY NCT DREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Donghyuck is a cuddler.

 

Mark wakes up unfamiliar. There are unfamiliar legs tangled in his, unfamiliar arms gripping his, his head pressed into an unfamiliar chest, and unfamiliar ice cold feet leeching the warmth from his body.

 

What the _fuck._

 

Mark wishes he could take his words from last night and stuff them right back into his mouth. What kind of heathen doesn’t wear socks to bed? Perhaps he really did end up bunking with a serial killer.

 

The boy half laying on top of Mark shifts as the morning light streams into the room.

 

Yeah, Donghyuck is a _huge_ cuddler. ~~It’s kind of cute.~~

 

Bit by bit, Mark rouses from sleep and realizes that he is not, in fact, being straddled by a serial killer. Probably.

 

(To be fair, he still doesn’t know what Donghyuck does on the weekends.)

 

He tenses. It’s still weird-- he doesn’t even know this kid. The fuck is he doing cuddling him? Mark decides to put it out of his mind and just get out of bed as soon as possible, shoving Donghyuck’s limbs off of him. Donghyuck's limp string bean arms flop back over his face.

 

“Up and at ‘em!” Mark slips out of bed and stretches, oddly excited for the day ahead.

 

“Who the fuck is Adam.” Donghyuck mumbles into the pillow.

 

“What?”

 

“‘Up and Adam?’ I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I thought you’d at least remember my name. You’re not in America anymore, _Dorothy_ ~” Donghyuck drawls groggily, completing the gesture with a weak little finger wiggle and a drunk sounding Wicked Witch of the West impression.

 

“It’s an expression, Hyuck. Up and at ‘em. Let’s start the day. You know?” Donghyuck doesn't respond for a few minutes. Mark swears he can see smoke coming out from Donghyuck's ears from his sleepy brain working so hard.

 

“American slang is dumb,” Donghyuck decides, finally sitting up. He reaches over to open the ratty red curtains. “Ah, a beautiful Italian morning,” he sing-songs, admiring the view of the dingy alleyway as he gets up and dusts himself off.

 

“Whatever. Can we get breakfast?”

 

“Yeah, I guess. Just let me change...Wait a minute,” Donghyuck turns around with a smug grin, “You called me Hyuck!”

 

Mark rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it, _RV anti_.”

 

Donghyuck whistles, “Ouch." He clicks his tongue, "I really thought you were better than that, Markus.”

 

“We all get let down eventually. And don’t call me Markus.”

 

“...Okay, Markus.” Donghyuck pokes Mark playfully in the side. Mark rubs at the spot with a frown twisting his features. He bruises like a peach.

 

“Motherfucker, I changed my mind. You can have the rickety chair with all the splinters tonight.” Mark's pulling out the big guns now. He steals a glance at the aforementioned furniture piece, which honestly looks closer to a torture device rather than a creative interior design choice.

 

“Oh, god. Anything but the splinter supreme.” Donghyuck deadpans, throwing his hands up in mock terror. The movement jostles Donghyuck's bag, which jolts Mark's memory. Mark's fake annoyed expression drops as he scrambles back to his bag.

 

“Wait! Put the banter on pause for a second--I almost forgot about this.” Mark shoves a few bills at Donghyuck. He has no idea how euros work, to be honest.

 

Donghyuck looks confused, “What’s this for?”

 

“The...hotel room. Shouldn’t I pay you for my share?”

 

“Oh, it’s covered by my school. I get to choose the locations and which hotel I want-- I mean, within reason, it’s based on the cities for my project-- and I usually end up with whichever hotel the sponsoring for my trip covers. It’s part of why I also can’t just upgrade to a bigger room. But, yeah, um. Don’t sweat the costs.” Donghyuck is avoiding his eyes, but his voice sounds confident enough. Mark shrugs. Who is he to disagree?

 

Donghyuck moves towards the door, ushering Mark out into the dark hallway. He locks the door behind them and tucks the room key in his back pocket, looking like he’s suppressing a grin the whole time.

 

“Also, Mark?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You were offering me about seven dollars in American money. Just so you know.”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

“You call that breakfast?” Mark sticks out his tongue with a _blehhh_ noise, “I think they served me tree bark instead of toast.” The food was horrendous and the staff were vaguely rude, but the room was cute and had little origami napkins at each place. It's the little things that matter sometimes.

 

“Mmmmm….crunchy.” says Donghyuck, leaning out into the street. "Get used to it." They had hailed a bus from the hotel to the port where they would board the boat to Venice.

 

“We have to ride a _boat_?” Mark looks positively green at the idea. He shifts uncomfortably on the flimsy pier, water lapping at his feet. Mark doesn't exactly have his sea legs. He is not the most poised person in general, but somehow gets even clumsier and queasier at sea. Fear fills his eyes as the rather run down boat pulls into the harbour.

 

“Mark, for the last time! You can't avoid it! It’s an _island._ Are you sure you’re an honors student?”

 

“Shut up. I...get seasick easily.”

 

Donghyuck groans and pushes at him. “If you’re gonna be sick, do it the other way, please.”

 

A few workers jump off the tiny boat and push a plank down to the dock, creating a shaky little bridge. Mark gulps as Donghyuck ushers him up the thin slab of wood. Mark, ever the graceful, trips almost immediately and stumbles, teetering on the edge of the plank. He gasps, seconds away from falling into the (knee deep) ocean below.

 

“Hey, careful!” Donghyuck’s hand shoots out to grab Mark’s sleeve, his other arm winding around the boy’s waist as he pushes Mark the rest of the way up to the boat’s deck.

 

Mark hunches over to catch his breath. “Thanks. To be honest, I thought you would’ve just dropped me. Or pushed me.”

 

“Not gonna lie, I was thinking about it.”

 

The boat ride passes quietly. Donghyuck snaps some pictures of the sun reflecting off the water while Mark focuses all his energy on not being sick, knuckles turning white from gripping the railing so hard.

 

“Oh, wait, wait! I have something you may like.” Donghyuck shoots up out of his chair and rushes up the ladder to where the captain is, pointing wildly. Mark is too busy pressing a hand to his mouth to reply. After a few minutes, the boat veers to the left, anchor dropped next to a tiny island outside Venice with little other than a large white building on it. Donghyuck grabs Mark’s hand and drags him off the boat.

 

“Hyuck, what is this?”

 

“And there it is again! That nickname! I knew you didn’t really hate me.”

 

“Debatable. Wait, stop trying to change the subject!” Mark whines as Donghyuck throws open the big double doors. They file in and take seats with some other people who were waiting outside. It’s a rather small area, dingy like a garage, with a large apparatus in the middle. As the people settle in, a middle aged man in a smock walks in with a wave and a bow. He greets them, but of course it's entirely in Italian and Donghyuck doesn't bother translating it. The man grabs a long metal pole and opens the door to the appliance, which looks to be giant smoldering oven or furnace. He moves the pole around in there for a few seconds, collecting a weird clear substance, tinged with red, on the very end.

 

“That’s molten glass,” supplies Donghyuck as the man sits down with some tools and begins to shape the glass. He rolls it around, poking and prodding at it as only a professional could, and occasionally sticking it back into the oven to reheat it and make it more malleable. Within a minute, there is a beautiful vase sitting on the table.

 

“Wow.” Mark breathes, eyes glued to the demonstration.

 

Donghyuck huffs proudly, “Knew you’d love it. Just wait and see what he does next!”

 

The artist rises and collects another blob of glass, this time going to town with a little pair of pliers. At first it looks like absolute nonsense as the artist plucks at the glass, but soon enough a horse begins to take shape. Suddenly, there is a glass horse rearing up on its back legs, standing proudly on the table. Somehow the artist crafted it with enough precision that the figurine was able to stand on its own within seconds of creation. The little horse almost looked alive in that moment, mane flowing and powerful muscles showing even through glass.

 

" _Ferrari!_ " the artist exclaims proudly, gesturing to the figurine. Mark looks closer at the piece-- it does look remarkably like the Ferrari logo. It's jaw dropping.

 

“That was _incredible_!” Mark exclaims in the middle of the performance as the artist reaches over to sculpt a new figure. He turns to Donghyuck only to find the other boy’s gaze already on him. Mark reaches up to brush at his mouth, not noticing Donghyuck’s eyes tracking the movement, “Why were you looking at me instead of the demonstration, dumbass? Do I have something on my face?”

 

“Uh...no. Just surprised. I didn’t think STEM kids could appreciate art.”

 

“Well, here’s your proof.” Mark sticks his tongue out at Donghyuck and re-focuses his attention on the demonstration. After the performance is over, they applaud the artist generously, paying the entrance fee as they exit another set of double doors into a bright exhibit hall.

 

Donghyuck’s phone rings. He silences it with a sigh.

 

The hall is beyond words. Beautiful glass creations line every shelf, most with price tags hanging off them that exceed Mark’s student loans (and _that_ is saying something). Each piece is totally unique. Mark gasps as they walk through the aisles, everything from ornate vases to fancy dinner glass sets to intricate animals to extravagant chandeliers live here. The place is absolutely breathtaking. The room being bathed in white with strong lighting behind each shelf serves to illuminate each piece further, the glass shining brilliantly.

 

“This is…” Mark spins around, awestruck. Donghyuck giggles at the silly expression on the other boy’s face. They wander around the whole exhibit quietly, taking in the art. At one point, a very curious Mark drags Donghyuck up a spiral staircase to the smaller second level, which is covered with gorgeous traditional Venetian masks.

 

Mark brushes a fingertip over one that is music themed, staffs and clefs running across the mask’s cheeks and forehead. Donghyuck has a staring contest with a large feminine-looking mask covered in gold from the eyelashes to the lips. Unsurprisingly, he loses.

 

Donghyuck checks his watch, “Hey, we better get going. The ferry is probably going to leave soon.”

 

Mark feels a little queasy at the idea, “...You mean we’re getting back on the boat?”

 

“Just keep your head still, eyes closed,” Donghyuck advises him with a little smile, oddly caring.

 

They make their way downstairs and are heading towards the double doors when Mark spies a pretty koi fish sculpture. He stops short and leans in to it. The glass reflects the harsh light beautifully, the sculpture glittering in its oranges and blues. Mark can't even fathom how the artisans could make glass look so lively. He cranes his neck around, “Hey Donghyuck, come look at this!”

 

“Wait, M--” Donghyuck, eyes wide, can’t even get the words out before the buckle securing Mark’s bag strap slips off, sending the loose bag flying straight towards the shelves of priceless Venetian glass.

 

“Fuck!” Mark fumbles for his bag right as Donghyuck lunges at it, effectively only crashing into Mark and sending the two of them stumbling forward. They come to a shaky stop inches away from the shelf, one of Donghyuck’s arms looped around Mark’s neck, the other supporting the bag. Both of Mark’s hands mysteriously find themselves on Donghyuck’s waist as he tries to steady the other boy (and himself). Flushing, the two separate after a few awkward seconds. Donghyuck shoves the rogue bag into Mark’s hands, pointing emphatically towards the door. “Let’s go. Fast.”

 

They brush themselves off and try to head for the doors as calmly and inconscpicously as possible, but out of the corner of his eye Mark spots an angry looking employee heading their way.

 

“Fast-- _faster_!” he wheeze-yells to Donghyuck, bursting out of the doors and sprinting towards the boat, both of them laughing the whole way. It’s only when they are once again at the top of the boat, admiring the view of the water surrounding the city, that Mark realizes how fast his heart is beating.

 

It’s probably just the adrenaline of running from angry Italian glass shop employees.

 

Totally.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

“We’re here!” Donghyuck hops off the boat cheerily, arms spread wide, “Welcome to _Venezia!”_

 

Mark stumbles after him, feeling dizzy. “Super.”

 

Venice is nothing short of gorgeous. The harbor is bustling, with tourists and corresponding tourist trap stands littering the area. The dock is covered in transport ferries and privately owned boats, the water stretching as far as the eye can see. The streets are cobblestone, bumpy and uneven. Beautiful buildings arch into the sky, the architecture so intricate and unique in each one. Donghyuck leads Mark across the port, pointing out various pretty things.

 

“Each time you cross one of these little bridges, you’re actually stepping onto another island! Venice is really made up of about 113 tiny islands. What makes them special is that every single one has its own well and church, left over from the younger days of Venice where each island was its own self-sufficient town.”

 

“Whoa. What’s with the sudden info dump?” Mark looks at him, shocked. Donghyuck shrugs, picking at his shirt.

 

“I’m not your tour guide for nothing, hm?”

 

“...You heard that?” Mark flushes.

 

Donghyuck smiles innocently up at him, “Heard what?”

 

Mark shakes his head with a surprised huff and continues to walk, absorbing the sights. He stops on a bridge overlooking one of the iconic Venetian canals. From his vantage point, he can see some windowsills lined with flowers on adjacent buildings, a few gondola boats farther away, and a couple hugging on the next bridge over. The sun shines through the narrow alley sized opening, skimming off the water. It’s so picturesque, Mark can almost hear the camera shutter going off.

 

Wait.

 

“Did you just take a picture of me?” Mark says incredulously.

 

Donghyuck lowers the camera. “No?”

 

Mark giggles and looks back out at the scene. The buildings melt away from view, sinking down into the water. Moss creeps up the stone where it disappears into the canal. Most of the buildings are a warm yellow or beige color, with a few pale pinks and blues sprinkled throughout, and wrought iron balconies and railings dotted everywhere. The whole place is very antique looking, but bright. It’s absolutely captivating.

 

Mark trails his fingers on the stone as they walk through the narrow paths. The winding alleyways are ripe with artists and little shops selling trinkets, but also many luxury brand stores like Gucci. The duo stop for a little while to have lunch in one of the tiny Italian pizzerias they pass.

 

(Donghyuck lifts his slice with a flourish. “To your first authentic Italian pizza!”)

 

Eventually the alleyways open up into a large square with a huge, intimidatingly beautiful structure in the center. Tourists are flocked around it, various families taking their Christmas card photo.

 

“Ooh, we’re in St. Mark’s Square!” Donghyuck says, poking Mark in the chest, “And that’s Doge’s palace.” The building is stunning, decked out in biblical paintings and ornate sculptures on the outside, with probably more on the inside.

 

Mark spins around in the plaza, in absolute awe. When he stops, his gaze lands on a small dock leading to a large stretch of water. A sign marking the dock as a gondola stop sits to the side. Mark whirls to Donghyuck in excitement. “Can we?!”

 

Donghyuck follows his gaze. “A gondola ride? Sure. It’ll probably be about ten eur--”

 

Mark is not listening to him. In fact, he is already halfway down the street. Donghyuck sighs fondly and dashes after him. Mark enthusiastically thrusts a few bills at the man at the booth and steps down to where the gondolas are. The gondolier helps him into the sleek looking boat. It’s rather small, made of a dark, elegant looking wood, and there are velvet topped benches and cushions spread throughout. Donghyuck follows Mark into the gondola, moving to sit further off from the other boy.

 

“Ah! _Per favore, siedeti sul quella sedia."_ the gondolier points to the bench only mere inches away from the one Mark is sitting on, “ _La gondola sarà sbilanciata altrimenti.”_

 

Donghyuck plops down into the seat narrowly across from Mark (notably, a tight fight. They are pressed up against each other, nearly chest to chest.) Mark looks at him questioningly. Their knees bump awkwardly. Reluctant, Donghyuck explains, “With only two people we have to sit like this, otherwise the boat will be unbalanced.”

 

Mark leans in (which, given their proximity, is quite uncalled for. Mark has never been the best with personal space.) and whispers to Donghyuck, frowning, “Doesn’t the gondola guy usually sing or something? He seems to be the strong silent type.” Donghyuck shrugs it off, but Mark frowns. He was kind of looking forward to the whole experience.

 

Said gondolier pushes off from the dock, quietly propelling them towards the large lake where the canals branch off from. The silence only lasts for a few moments, as is typical when it comes to Donghyuck.

 

“ _Macaroniiiii…_ ” he sings, hand over his heart, the other curled up in the air dramatically.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Mark cuts in. Donghyuck throws him a dirty look.

 

“Singing, obviously. _Maaaaaama miaaa..."_ Donghyuck continues to sing, throwing out random Italian words. Mark can’t help but laugh at the display, but gets distracted by how...nice, Donghyuck’s voice actually is.

 

It’s smooth, but bright. The sound rings clear in the air, ricocheting off the surrounding buildings. Donghyuck’s voice switches from a low, honey-like register to a higher, purer tone as the random, silly Italian words start to take form, melding into an actual song. It’s stunning. The soft singing mixed with the gentle waves of the water surrounding them makes for a serene moment, the two boys (plus the gondola operator) suspended in time.

 

_“Sarò tua stella del mattina, e sei mio angelo, sei mio angelo, tesoro.”_ Donghyuck finishes, looking at Mark with a little smile playing on his face. Mark doesn’t realize how long he’s spent staring into the other boy’s eyes in wonder.

 

“What was that song?”

 

“Nothing, really.” Donghyuck waves the question off quickly.

 

(Mark already misses his voice.)

 

Mark reaches an arm out of the boat as they turn into a narrow canal, passing underneath all the bridges everyone takes pictures on. His fingertips skim the water lightly as he admires everything in sight. From his position, he can really get a feel for the vibe of the little island, remaining calm even in the midst of the bustling tourists. He notes the ivy crawling up the walls, bright flowers blooming among it, the water soaked stone just a stretch away, the shadows falling over them as the arching houses block out the sky.

 

The gondolier reluctantly allows Mark and Donghyuck to take silly pictures of each other standing on the gondola with an oar in each hand when the ride ends. Donghyuck almost falls into the water, but it’s worth every second.

 

Venice certainly makes its impact.

 

Mark buys one of those dumb _Venezia_ tourist hats immediately after getting off the gondola. Then he buys four keychains. Then a t-shirt. He presents the bag proudly to Donghyuck after walking away from the stand, “Look, what a deal! These keychains are for my parents, and this hat can be for my sister.”

 

A weird, almost hurt look crosses Donghyuck’s face. In a flash, it’s gone. He just sighs and hangs his head in his hands, “Oh boy. Now I have to teach you how to bargain, don’t I.”

 

Donghyuck and Mark wander around the square for a little while longer, exploring Doge’s palace and a few other landmarks in the area, before they end up at another one of the cute little bridges littered around. It’s one of the quieter ones, not being clogged up by tourists constantly stopping to take pictures on it, but with a pretty view and some of the adjacent bridges still in sight. Donghyuck sets his backpack down and begins to unfold his tripod.

 

“Hey, I’m gonna hang out here for a while and try to get some more pictures for my project,” he says, angling the camera towards one of the nearer bridges. The shot perfectly captures the water, skyline, and the silhouettes of the people on the bridge. It’s the best place to shoot as the sun goes down. Donghyuck turns towards Mark, motioning for his phone. He takes it and taps on the screen a few times, then shoving it back to the boy without much fanfare. “There! You can go explore the city a little more if you want. Meet me back here at 8:30? If you get lost, just shoot me a text.”

 

“I won’t get lost!” Mark scoffs, and sets off on his way.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

Mark immediately gets lost.

 

“This is fine,” Mark mumbles to himself, “No directions, no problem! This is just like how it was before Donghyuck.” He then prompty trips and falls into a puddle. He cringes, “Oh, god. This is what it was like before I had Donghyuck?”

 

Perhaps Mark has gotten a little more attached than he had thought.

 

Whatever, he’s just going to embrace the unknown and continue exploring. As long as he doesn’t get hit by a car (or a gondola, considering there aren’t any cars in Venice) he should be fine.

 

Mark, already feeling hungry again, decides to focus his efforts on looking for a place to get ravioli. He prides himself on being a simple man with simple cravings.

 

Mark wanders around the little side streets of Venice for a bit, prowling around. He stops into a few cute shops. Most of them are just selling basic tourist things like sweatshirts and snow globes, but he finds a few artisan shops with adorable little glass animals. He buys a glass figurine of a little goldfish in a fishbowl for Taeyong, a cat for Jeno, a cute little cow for Renjun, and a bird for Jaemin. It’s super expensive, but Mark figures he sort of owes it to them for all the trouble he’s put them through, plus the figurines are so irresistibily cute and Mark likes supporting independent artists.

 

Despite his best efforts, Mark just can’t find any places that sell nice, plain, ravioli. Damn.

 

Without Donghyuck to distract him, Mark’s anxieties start to flood back. Those fundraiser forms were supposed to be in today, did anyone do them? Did the swim team practice go okay without him to run drills? What about all the classes he’s missing? Sure, the trip is completely school approved; he’s excused from class and should be given ample time to make up the work, but Mark’s worries are _persistent_.

 

He sidles into an internet cafe to connect to their wifi. His finger hovers over ‘Renjun’ for only a brief second before he calls the number. Renjun is the first and only person he has on speed dial. He loves Jeno and Jaemin, but Renjun is the only remotely responsible one amongst them, and that’s really not saying much.

 

“Ah, still not dead, I see.”

 

“Renjun, I’m starting to suspect you planned this whole trip with the intention of me dying at some point.”

 

“I’m hurt you would even suggest that, dear best friend,” Renjun feigns offense over the line. Mark guesses he’s probably holding a hand over his heart right now. “You can’t see it, but I’m holding my hand over my heart because I am so thoroughly offended. But if we’re on the topic...if you died I would get your recording equipment, right?”

 

“Shut up, Renjun.” Mark says fondly, absentmindedly flipping through the menu at the cafe.

 

Renjun laughs-wheezes, and a wave of warmth washes over Mark. He tucks the phone between his shoulder and his neck for a moment as Renjun continues. “So, why the call? Are you not having fun? Is it that cute tour guide dude? Do I need to fly to Italy and kill someone?”

 

“Whoa, slow down! First off, your noodle arms do no harm--”

 

“Maybe not, but I have scary boyfriends who will fight anyone upon my command.”

 

“--I’m going to ignore that one. Anyways, it’s not about that. Just...how are things going over there? You know...with all the stuff I left unfinished. Did those forms get submitted?”

 

“Mark, stop biting your nails.” Mark puts his hand down instantly-- he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Stupid Renjun and his best friend psychic abilities.

 

“Also, Mark dearie I love you _so_ much but I’m going to fly to Italy and beat _your_ ass if you speak one more word about home. You are on a goddamn vacation, take it. I swear to God if you call me one more time about stupid shit before this trip is over I _will_ spill chocolate milk in your nice fluffy white rug-- the one that makes you feel like a rich organized crime syndicate boss. _You know the one._ ”

 

Mark gasps, eyes widening, “You wouldn’t! Not the nice one I got in freshman year! My _mom_ bought me that.”

 

“Oh, you _know_ I would.”

 

“...You fucker.”

 

“Dude, for real! Stop stressing. We’ve got stuff under control here, so don’t go giving yourself a stroke in a foreign country. Flying your body back would probably be outside of what the university covers.” Renjun laughs, but Mark can tell he’s serious about Mark chilling the fuck out. And damn, Renjun is right again, Mark took this trip specifically to get away from all the stuff bothering him back home. He should appreciate it and make the most of it.

 

“Thanks, Renjun. Also, you think you could beat my ass? What did I _just say_ about your sad noodle arms.”

 

“And what did _I_ just say about my two buff scary boyfriends who will go to war for me?”

 

“...Noted. Huang Renjun, you’re one scary man.”

 

“Aww, stop flirting with me, Mark Lee! Two boyfriends is enough for me. Anyways,” Renjun shifts, “Get off the phone and enjoy your vacation. And enjoy romancing your cute tour guide! ;)”

 

“Did you just wink at me? I swear I could _hear_ you wink. That was terrifying, please don’t ever do that again.”

 

“Bye, Morkie-pie!” Renjun hangs up after a series of gross kissy noises. Mark smiles at his phone. Man, Renjun is a force to be reckoned with.

 

Mark nods at the employees in the cafe and goes back to meandering down random side alleys and peeking into various shops. Eventually, as the sun goes down, Mark gets bored of wandering Venice alone and tries to make his way back to Donghyuck’s bridge. The setting sun casts the area in soft light. Mark spies a couple staring into the night sky with hands clasped together, and something in his heart tugs at him.

 

So caught up in all his work, Mark barely allots enough time to keep the babies (as he affectionately calls Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, and their two other friends Chenle and Jisung) and some of his older friends in his life. He’s a top athlete, star student, and leader for several things, but something’s gotta budge. For Mark, that something ended up being his social life (and often his well being).

 

It’s fine. Mark needs to keep up his scholarships more than he needs a relationship, anyways.

 

Focus.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

 

Lost in his thoughts, Mark, by some miracle, stumbles upon the bridge he left Donghyuck on. Figures Mark would only be able to find his way around once he zoned out completely.

 

“Oh! You found me.” Donghyuck looks equally as surprised as Mark.

 

“Uh….sure did.”

 

Donghyuck levels him with a knowing look. “You got lost, didn’t you.”

 

Mark has no response to that. He kicks a pebble by his foot, “Anyways, get any good pictures?”

 

“Hell yeah.” Donghyuck angles his camera towards Mark, showing off some of them. He flicks through several breathtaking shots of the sunset through the narrow gap between the buildings, some close ups of the water and the intricate detailing on some of the boats. He moves to scroll to the next image, but stops short, putting the camera away. “Uhh, that’s it.”

 

Mark doesn’t question him, yawning instead. Donghyuck glances at his watch. “Oh, it’s getting late. Ready to go?”

 

Mark takes one last look at the beautiful place known as Venice. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

 

Donghyuck leads Mark back to the ferry stop. He’s still somehow glowing even in the fading light. He turns back with a soft smile and carefully guides Mark up the plank to the boat.

 

Maybe Mark is luckier than he thought.

 

The ferry ride back is quiet. Donghyuck’s phone rings four times. He declines all of them.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

Mark flops down onto the bed with an over exaggerated sigh. He sticks one arm up in the air, the other falling across his face. “What’s a boy gotta do to get some good ravioli around here?”

 

Donghyuck laughs, sitting up and throwing Mark’s bag on top of him. “You’ve only seen the shitty tourist traps. Want me to show you a real restaurant?”

 

Mark sits up a few seconds later when the blood rushing out of his arm starts making him uncomfortable. He whacks Donghyuck’s shoulder playfully, arm still tingling, “Well, you are the boss. It’s your trip, _captain._ ” he mocks the other boy with a sailor’s salute.

 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and swats Mark’s hand away from his face. He picks up his phone and idly scrolls through it for a few seconds. Mark leans over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of what looks to be a schedule on the screen. “Oh, perfect! Tomorrow, we hit Pisa. We’ll make a little detour for it on the way to Florence. We’ll grab the next hotel in a small town outside the city, it’s cheaper and easier that way.” says Donghyuck.

 

“You’re sure it’s still okay for me to join you?”

 

“Fam, we skipped the whole pleasantries phase of friendship and went straight to friendly bickering and borderline actual fighting. We’re cool.”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

“Pssst, Donghyuck. Are you awake?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay, cool. What’s, like, the age restriction for gondolas? How do kids get to school? If you’re behind schedule do you just rush and try to make the late gondola? Like, ‘Sorry, traffic on canal three was crazy today!’? And on your sixteenth birthday do you come out to the canal hoping to see a little motor powered gondola, or something? Your sweet sixteen is kind of, a big deal in America. Can a sixteen year old even drive a gondola? How does _that_ work? Is it technically called driving, or is rowing the proper term? ”

 

“I’d pay you to shut up, but you don’t know how to use euros anyways.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sarò tua stella del mattina, e sei mio angelo, sei mio angelo, tesoro. _\- i'll be your morning star, and you are my angel, you are my angel (lyrics from angel - nct 127)__
> 
> u guys: can we get some plot please  
> me, writing 4k of useless markhyuck banter: ya one sec
> 
>  
> 
> as always thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed, things are hectic rn but i should have another chapter up next week and yall know where to find me !! <3
> 
> ALSO what did u think abt the comeback i LOVED IT !!!


	4. pisa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for panic attacks at the end (it's not bad but stay safe <3)

 

Donghyuck is still a cuddler.

 

Once again, Mark finds himself smothered half to death upon waking. This time, Donghyuck has his head snuggled into Mark’s chest, arm thrown around his waist and their legs all tangled up. Mark shifts carefully, not wanting to dislodge the other boy onto the floor. Donghyuck sleepily opens his eyes and Mark raises an eyebrow at the other boy’s position.

 

Donghyuck’s cheeks flush the slightest bit, “What can I say, I sleep better with a teddy bear. You’re a little bony, but you’ll do.” he pats Mark’s elbow consolingly.

 

Mark changes his mind. Perhaps he _does_ want to shove Donghyuck out of the bed after all.

 

Donghyuck gets up before Mark can make his move. A tragedy. Mark will have to reschedule his evil plot to tomorrow morning when he inevitably wakes up with a human blanket on top of him again.

 

He’s sort of looking forward to it.

 

Mark shakes the weird thought out of his head and starts to get ready for the day. They’re leaving the hotel today, so he tries to make sure not to leave anything behind.

 

“Time to go!” chirps Donghyuck, throwing his backpack on his back, “We’re gonna miss the travel bus at this rate.”

 

“Man, you must travel light,” Mark says with a sour look, still trying to pack up his toiletries.

 

He misses the pained look that flashes across the other boy’s face.

 

“Let’s go, let’s gooo, _tesoro_.” Donghyuck rambles as he shoves Mark out the door.

 

“What does that mean? _Te-tesoro?_ ” Mark pronounces carefully, still horribly butchering the word.

 

“Idiot.”

 

“Oh. Well, uh-- you’re a bigger one!”

 

Donghyuck quirks an eyebrow, muffling a snort, “That’s the best you can do?”

 

“Ugh, give me a break. I’m not a morning person.”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

Donghyuck rushes Mark down the stairs into the front lobby. He hurriedly declines another call and then shuts his phone off.

 

Their travel bus is visible through the foliage in the front. Apparently Donghyuck landed them a spot on the bus by pure luck. There’s a middle school group touring the country and they happen to be stopping in Pisa before going to Florence.

 

They check out of the hotel and file on to the bus, only to be met with tons of screaming prepubescent children. Dear god. Lucky for them, there’s a spot open near the back.

 

Unlucky for them, there is only _one_ spot open near the back.

 

Donghyuck looks sideways at Mark and shrugs, “Well, it’ll be a tight fit but it’s not like we haven’t been this close before.” he waggles his eyebrows.

 

“Oh, shut up! This morning was your fault and you know it.” Mark rolls his eyes. Donghyuck is truly insufferable.

 

They sit crushed up against each other, knees pressed close and shoulders bumping. It’s uncomfortable, but also oddly nice. Donghyuck drifts off to sleep somewhere during the three hour long drive. His head falls onto Mark’s shoulder, and Mark stiffens, but doesn’t have the heart to push him off. Instead, a drowsy Mark yawns and leans his head against Donghyuck’s, cheek pressed to the top of his head.

 

Unbeknownst to him, Donghyuck smiles lightly.

 

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

The pair wake to the ungodly shrieking of children, which can only mean one thing; they’ve arrived in Pisa.

 

“Oh, one thing you should know!” Donghyuck exclaims, tugging on the back of an over-eager, stir crazy Mark’s jacket before he can sprint off the bus. “The vendors here are, like, wild. They’re pretty harmless and all, but they’re gonna throw out every pop culture reference they know to pull in the tourists.”

 

“I do _not_ look like a tourist!” Mark says indignantly.

 

Donghyuck looks him up and down, from his dumb looking cargo shorts and tennis shoes to his tie dye t-shirt with “I <3 New York” emblazoned on the pocket, and winces. “...Sure, man.”

 

They hop off the bus, politely thanking the driver.

 

“Alright, we’ve got about...four or five hours to ourselves before the bus leaves.” Donghyuck says, setting a reminder on his phone.

 

_“Boooooom shaka-laka, Nicki Minaj!”_

 

Mark immediately comes face to face with a man with a row of watches spread across his arm.

 

“Ah, no thank you,” Mark turns away and is met with another man with a rack of sunglasses.

 

“Ey, you like? Lady Gaga buy these!” the man gestures proudly to the merchandise. Mark is going to cry. How do you escape these people?

 

“No, she most definitely did not,” Donghyuck says to the man with a giggle, rescuing the poor boy from the onslaught of over-enthusiastic vendors.

 

“Gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang gucci gang!” They pass another one with umbrellas, and another with purses who tells them confidently, “Coach! Coach bags! _Boom, shaka-laka!”_

 

Mark politely declines. As he’s walking away, he hears the man speak to the people behind him, “Ya dig? These are...Gucci!”

 

“Wow, that was, um. A lot,” Mark says in a daze, staring back at the crowd they just walked through.

 

“Yeah, everyone’s just trying to make a living.” Donghyuck shuffles around in his bag for a second. His phone beeps with a call.

 

“You sure get a lot of phone calls.”

 

Donghyuck jabs at the phone. “Yeah, all spam. No big deal, I’ve just got no idea how they got my number. Anyways! Let’s tour.” He takes Mark by the arm and drags him through the gates. In the distance, they can see the iconic leaning tower of Pisa.

 

 _“Piazza dei Miracoli._ The Square of Miracles. Here we are!”

 

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually seeing the leaning tower of Pisa!” Mark exclaims, starry-eyed. This trip was way fucking cooler than he had anticipated.

 

The tower is towards the back of the area, and there is also a few other church and government buildings around the place. They are all very fancy looking, but some of them are decorated a little differently from the buildings they saw in Venice. Donghyuck proudly tells him all about the Italian architects who were travelling a lot when the plaza was being built and brought back lots of Arabic influence with them.

 

The tower is...certainly leaning. There really isn’t much else to say about it. Most of the buildings in the walled in area are leaning, actually. The more entertaining thing about the whole scene is the thousands of tourists on the grass that clearly says “Do not step on the grass” taking the dumb tourist picture.

 

Mark wants to take the dumb tourist picture.

 

Mark takes Donghyuck’s hand and weaves through the crowd, looping around to a side of the tower that has significantly less people. He excitedly thrusts his phone into Donghyuck’s hand.

 

“Please take a picture of me!” he gets into the classic 'holding up the leaning tower of Pisa' pose.

 

“No.”

 

“Aw, please?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Donghyuck says as he gets into position.

 

“Is this good?”

 

“No, a little to the left. No, Mark, your _other_ left. Did I say forward? Don’t answer that-- No I fucking did not.”

 

“Are you sure it’s to the left? I’m, like, a _lot_ to the left.”

 

“Who’s the photography major here?” Donghyuck cuts off Mark’s protests smugly, “Ah, not you! That’s right.”

 

“You could move instead, you know.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, dumbass,” Donghyuck mutters as he lays down flat on his stomach. A true photographer will do anything for that _perfect angle._

 

Mark’s thighs are beginning to tremble from holding the pose for so long. Just as he’s about to admit defeat and ask Donghyuck if he’s gotten anything good yet, and older man approaches him and hi-fives his outstretched hands as he sweeps past. Mark drops the pose and stares at his hands in confusion. After a beat of silence, he looks back at Donghyuck and the two break out in a fit of laughter. Mark jogs back to Donghyuck with grabby hands, a grin on his face.

 

“Can I see?”

 

It’s the perfect shitty tourist picture. Mark flips through the various pictures. Donghyuck had gotten some on his own camera as well. Mark doesn’t really know why Donghyuck would bother taking up memory on his nice fancy photography major camera with Mark’s stupid Christmas card photos, but he caught the moment the stranger hi-fived him and the look on Mark’s befuddled face is too good to question.

 

Mark lands on one that is pretty off, quite a bit of space separating his hands and the image of the tower. He sighs happily, “It’s perfect.”

 

Donghyuck also caught a comical shot of the many, many tourists in various renditions of the pose out on the lawn, each trying their hand at perspective manipulating photography.

 

Mark flags down a random stranger with a wave, “Hey, could you take our picture?”

 

“The hell you mean _our_ pict--” Mark swats at Donghyuck's shoulder to shut him up and hands his phone to the nice lady, pulling Donghyuck closer to the tower. He spreads his legs in a wide stance and puts his hands up.

 

“What are you doing.”

 

“Making a fool out of myself. Well, ourselves. Put your hands up! You push, I’ll hold.”

 

Donghyuck shakes his head with a sigh and gets into position. Three minutes later and they have sore arms and one very silly image.

 

They stretch out on the smooth path, basking in the sun. Mark flicks through his phone.

 

It’s even better with both of them in the photo.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

“Alright, up and at ‘em.” Donghyuck says, sitting up and shaking Mark lightly.

 

“Hey, you’re learning!”

 

The two get up and wander around the tower a bit more. They could climb it, but it’s honestly not worth the price. Plus, Mark is getting hungry.

 

“Can we get food? There seems to be a nice stand over there.”

 

Donghyuck tsks at him. “What did I say yesterday? I’m going to show you a _real_ Italian restaurant.”

 

“Sure, lead me to the promised land oh wise one. Let’s see how well your famous Italian cuisine holds up to its reputation.” Mark wiggles his eyebrows tauntingly.

 

Donghyuck leads him down the path behind the tower, through an opening in the stone wall surrounding the area. They find themselves on a quaint, quieter street of Pisa. Like the rest of Italy that Mark has seen thus far, it’s covered in light, easy on the eye colors. The houses are modest, but well kept, and there are scooters everywhere. It’s cute. They keep walking for a few minutes, eventually reaching a tiny hole in the wall style restaurant that Mark definitely would have missed if he was alone.

 

The place is absolutely beautiful. The pair climb up a few steps and are met with a gorgeous outside dining area. It’s small and winding, cobblestone paths weaving around the square patches of grass that separate the individual dining areas. The smooth walls are at eye level and painted a warm beige, the small trees are wonderfully in bloom, and there are bright flowers planted in every inch of free space. Trees reach over the small enclosure, making the scene feel cozy and comfortable, dappled sunlight dancing across the dainty chairs and tables. Delicate plates are set out on the little individual tables, adorned with silky looking orange cloth folded into pretty shapes.

 

“This looks like some shit you find on the first page of search results for ‘aesthetic’ on Pinterest.” Mark says in awe. Mark isn’t really the best with words.

 

A waiter sits them with a smile. “ _Lui...ѐ il tuo ragazzo?”_ she asks with a teasing grin, pulling out her notepad.

 

Donghyuck blushes, “ _Uh...sÌ. Davvero, ѐ complicato.”_

 

Mark looks between them, utterly confused. He soon forgets the exchange when he spies nice, clean, plain ravioli on the menu. Finally, some good fucking food. Seriously. Mark’s face lights up and he points enthusiastically to the menu, not knowing how to order in Italian. Luckily, Donghyuck takes care of that.

 

Donghyuck takes care of a lot of things.

 

They make easy banter conversation while waiting for the food to arrive. Donghyuck pulls out his cell phone, not his nice camera for once, and tugs Mark by the t-shirt over to get a selfie in front of the flowers.

 

Mark demolishes the plate of ravioli like he’s never seen food before. And damn, he may as well have never seen food before this day because this ravioli is truly the best thing he has ever tasted. It’s warm, buttery, and deliciously cheesy on the inside. Mark steals a few bites of gnocci off Donghyuck’s plate, and that doesn’t disappoint either.

 

Donghyuck sets his glass of water down with a grin, “So, how’s the food?”

 

Mark attempts to regain his composure, calmly setting down his fork, “Oh, you know. It was okay.”

 

They stare evenly at each other for a few seconds before Mark breaks. He never claimed to have a very strong soul. “Alright, that _may_ have been the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Donghyuck gives him a look that clearly says, ‘ _and?’_ , “...You did well picking this place out. Thanks.”

 

Donghyuck gives a triumphant chuckle, that asshole, and claps him on the shoulder, “Oh, honey, slow down. You haven’t even had gelato yet.”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

They exit the little restaurant in high spirits, Mark literally leaping down the last few steps and back out into the warm Italian afternoon. Donghyuck’s phone rings.

 

Mark tilts his head. “That could be important, you know.”

 

“No, it’s not. Trust me.”

 

Mark shrugs. Donghyuck silences his phone and glances at his watch, brightening. “Come on! There’s one more thing we can fit in to the schedule before the bus leaves.”

 

After a few minutes of walking, they reach a domed building. Arches curve from the bottom to about halfway up, at which point the architecture melts into several elaborate lines and columns. It’s a beautiful building.

 

“This is the _Battistero dei Pisa,_ the baptistery. It’s almost at the half hour, which means we can go in and see something really neat.” They take one of the side doors and enter the round room inside. There’s a baptismal font constructed in the middle, with a statue standing proud in the middle. The stained glass windows surrounding the room casting colored light upon the spectators. The entire room is made of different types of expensive marble, ranging from luxurious reds to whites and blacks, gold and silver to show off wealth.

 

“The architect that was working on this died before it was finished. The architect that took over wanted to adjust the style to be more Gothic, which was modern at the time, so he added a new roof, the domed one. The combination of the pyramid shaped inner roof and the dome makes for a pretty much acoustically perfect room. They have demonstrations every half hour so that you can hear the echo!” Donghyuck explains excitedly.

 

Mark can’t help but get caught up in the stars in Donghyuck’s eyes. They dim after a second though, as Donghyuck checks his watch again with a small frown. “Huh, they’re a bit late…? That’s odd.”

 

Something in the room clicks, “ _Ciao tutti,_ unfortunately the demonstration usually put on by the guard on duty is cancelled for today, as she has lost her voice. _Ci dispiace.”_ the announcement finishes.

 

Donghyuck frowns even harder, “That’s such a shame…”

 

Mark scuffs a shoe on the floor sadly. Suddenly, a voice-- a melody -- pops into his head.

 

_Sarò tua stella del mattina, e sei mio angelo, sei mio angelo, tesoro._

 

Wait.

 

Mark, in typical Mark fashion, is speaking before he realizes what he’s saying, “My friend can do it!” he shoves Donghyuck forward.

 

“I can _what?”_ Donghyuck splutters, looking back to give him a, ‘what the fuck are you doing you dimwit!’ look. Mark has gotten really good at deciphering Donghyuck’s looks lately.

 

“You can sing! You can fill in for the demonstrator!" Mark smiles widely. "It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Just do a scale, or something.”

 

Donghyuck is speechless for a moment (Mark commits those precious seconds to memory, as it will likely never happen again) before he turns away, grumbling. He moves to stand by the circular baptismal font in the center. He shoos Mark away, telling him that it’s much nicer up on the second floor.

 

Mark climbs the winding staircase up to the second level, where he stands with his arms folded on the railing, staring down at the room below. He can see Donghyuck, and gives him a quick thumbs up.

 

And, _wow._ If Mark thought Donghyuck’s voice sounded angelic (deceptive, since the man behind the voice is an absolute _devil_ ) back in Venice, it doesn’t hold a candle to how his voice sounds supported by a structurally and acoustically impeccable room. The sound bounces around the room, the notes overlapping softly, smoothly. The echo magnifies everything to where even Donghyuck’s softest, airiest notes sound powerful, yet still delicate. He closes his eyes and once again allows Donghyuck's soothing voice to wash over him like waves on a beach. It truly is a performance Mark is glad he didn’t miss.

 

As soon as Donghyuck is done, finishing by carrying a long high note, the whole building erupts in applause. Mark sprints down the stairs.

 

“Hyuck, that was amazing!” Donghyuck only beams at him with a thousand watt grin. Mark couldn’t be more happy.

 

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

Correction.

 

Perhaps Mark still had some room to get happier, he thinks as he takes a bite of his first true Italian gelato _._

 

“Holy _shit,_ ” Mark whines, eyes fluttering closed. It’s heaven on Earth. It’s heaven on Italy. It’s-- It’s--

 

 _Italian ice cream_.

 

It’s just like regular ice cream, but _richer_. It’s creamy and dark, and they have such interesting flavors like KitKat, _stracciatella_ , honey, caramel apple pie, etc. This was unreal. Mark might just be in love.

 

Donghyuck laughs at him. “Don’t go off into the light just yet, _tesoro._ The bus leaves in twenty.”

 

Mark stares at Donghyuck, who has switched to photographing the little gelato stand they’re parked at. Suddenly, he whirls around and snaps a picture of Mark. Startled, Mark’s spoon, originally headed for his mouth to deposit the God’s Creation to where it belongs, ends up smearing the gelato all over his nose. Mark scrunches up his face as the camera shutter goes off again, and then again and again.

 

“Stop that!” he yells through his giggles, making a swipe at the camera. The boy behind it ducks his head and laughs back, probably laughing at all the unflattering pictures (read: blackmail) he now has on Mark.

 

Mark might just be in love.

 

...With gelato, of course.

 

Mark stops on the way back to buy a little Pisa themed shot glass for his brother Taeyong. Being wild college students, surely either Taeyong or his boyfriend Jaehyun will appreciate the gift. Mark only discovers that the glass itself leans to the side when placed on a flat surface _after_ he buys it, but he’s delighted all the same. It’s a cute touch, though rather impractical for a bunch of drunk people.

 

“Mark, how much did you pay for that.”

 

“Um...five euros?”

 

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck pinches the bridge of his nose between his index and forefinger, “I _really_ need to teach you to bargain. Lesson one, Mark: never settle on the first asking price. It’s always way higher than they’re expecting you to pay.”

 

“What’s lesson two?”

 

“There...is none. You just bargain. Don’t carry large bills, don’t count your money in front of them, pretend like two euros is all you have. Everyone knows that. It’s common sense, really.”

 

Mark doesn’t even have enough common sense to stop himself from picking up and keeping the random things he finds on the ground. Or maybe that’s just a failure of basic survival instincts? Well, whatever it is that Donghyuck thinks Mark has got, he sure doesn’t. Mark nods along confidently anyways like he already knew all those tips.

 

Donghyuck spies the school group, dressed in identical neon yellow shirts, making their way to the gates. “Ah, I think the bus is gonna leave soon. Let’s board-- didn’t you miss those little rascals?”

 

As they crush into the seats in the back, the duo overhear a conversation between two of the middle schoolers:

 

“Yo, Sarah. Isn’t it crazy that when you’re pregnant with triplets, you’re, like, pregnant for _three times_ as long? Because it’s three times as many babies. That must _suck._ What kind of cravings must you get at like, a year in? I bet you’d start eating wood chips or something."

 

“Bryan, you’re a dumbass.”

 

Sarah hits him with a shoe. And then hits him again.

 

“Yep. Missed them tons.” Mark quips. Donghyuck is already asleep on his shoulder.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

The bus drops them off at a cute little hotel. Unlike the isolated previous place, this one is on a hill, located just on the outskirts of a bustling town, Montecatini Terme. There are clearly plenty of tourists around-- as the many, many hotels and motels would suggest-- but the town seems to have retained its core Italian traits.

 

Donghyuck had booked the hotel on the ride there, and goes over to the front desk to get their room key while Mark wanders around. It’s a really nice looking hotel, clean with comfortable armchairs all around the lobby, flowers, and-- _ooh, Italian candy!_ Mark follows Donghyuck up to the desk and grabs a fistful of candy from the bowl. Fuck yeah. Donghyuck throws the keys to Mark, who fumbles and drops them like four times before getting a grip, and they haul their luggage up to their room.

 

“Um.” Mark says intelligently, peering around the room. The room is a bit bigger than the other one, and there’s...only one bed. Again.

 

Donghyuck shrugs. “They must have given us the wrong room. Do you want me to ask to switch? It might cost us more, though.”

 

“No, it’s fine, I guess. It’s only for a few days.” Mark walks around, surveying the room. They have a little safe at the bottom of the wooden closet, a king sized bed, a dresser with a mirror, and a glass door at opposite the door to the hallway. Mark unlocks the door and swings it open, revealing a balcony. “Oh, we’re _definitely_ not switching now!”

 

While the actual room was modest at best, the balcony was the true allure. They had been given the last room in the wing, third floor, and their balcony wraps around the side of the building. Mark wanders out onto it in awe. From there, he can see all the way out into the mountains, glittering lights meeting his eyes as he peers down on the little city. There is ample room for movement as it is, but as he makes his way around the side, he discovers a huge stretch of balcony, partially shielded by a little roof. There’s so much space.

 

“This must be the real selling point of this room,” Donghyuck mutters, fingers trailing over the railing.

 

“Why, did it cost a lot?” Mark frowns.

 

“Uh, not really. Anyways, that’s not a problem, remember?”

 

“Oh, yeah. How is your project going, anyways?” Mark leans an elbow on Donghyuck’s shoulder.

 

Distantly, he wonders when he’s gotten so comfortable with the other boy. He’s not normally the touchy type.

 

“Pretty good! I think I’m gonna have a _bomb_ ass portfolio after this.” Donghyuck grins. Mark can’t help but feel sadness mix in with his happiness for Donghyuck. Soon, Donghyuck’s project will end, this trip will end, and they’ll likely never see each other again.

 

He keeps forgetting they’re on borrowed time.

 

“...I’m gonna go take a shower.” Mark says stiffly, leaving Donghyuck out in the starry night.

 

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

Mark exits fifteen minutes later, toweling his hair off. His movements slow when he hears distant shouting.

 

“ _I don’t fucking care!”_

 

Mark thinks at first that it could be a couple next door fighting, but he soon remembers that they have no neighbors to the right. That could only mean--

 

The balcony?

 

Worried, Mark pulls on a shirt and eases the door open.

 

“Hyuck?”

 

_“Stop fucking calling me! I-I don’t want to see you!”_

 

The boy is huddled in the corner on the opposite side of the balcony, as far away from the room as one can get. He clenches the phone in a tight grip, cries spilling from his lips, spitting venom into the receiver.

 

_“Leave me alone.”_

 

A sob.

 

“Oh, _Hyuck_.” Normally Mark the social situation king would have stood there gaping like a goddamn brick wall. Instead-- acting entirely upon instincts Mark didn’t even know he _had--_ Mark rushes to the other boy, all thoughts of distance and stranger danger and _boundaries_ gone from his head because Donghyuck is crying, _Donghyuck is crying._

 

The boy with the stars in his eyes and the sun behind his grin is sobbing into Mark’s shoulder and Mark has no idea what to do, can do nothing but pull him close, hands trailing up and down the boy’s back in what he hopes is a successfully comforting gesture. Mark’s face screws up in concern and fear, eyebrows drawing together and lip wobbling, chin resting on Donghyuck’s shoulder.

 

Mark has never been the best with words, but he’s gathered enough about Donghyuck in the past few days to know that he doesn’t _have_ to use words. Instead, he sweeps the other boy up in a bone crushing embrace as they sink to the ground, pressing the boy’s forehead into the crook of his neck. His fingers card through Donghyuck’s soft hair as he rocks him gently. Donghyuck chokes on a sob and Mark hushes him quietly.

 

Internally, he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what’s wrong or how to help, how to _fix this_ , and a Mark without an answer to a problem is not a Mark at all. He’s lost.

 

“No, no no no um, fuck, don’t-- don’t cry-- it’s okay Hyuck, please…” Mark draws back for a moment, cupping Donghyuck’s face in his hands and using his thumbs to wipe away the trail of tears running down Donghyuck’s face. The boy’s breathing is erratic and he looks dizzy from lack of air. He hiccups between his sobs, trying to speak through his hysterics, but Mark quiets him. He pries the cell phone out of Donghyuck’s hand and tosses it to the side, using his hands to force the boy’s gaze to stay on him.

 

 _“Hey_ \-- just, um, just breathe. Focus on me, on _me,_ not-- _not_ the phone, Hyuck. Focus. Breathe with me-- one, two, three. There you go, that’s it.” Mark’s hands continue to rub circles into Donghyuck’s back, whispering to him softly. After a while, Donghyuck’s sobs begin to calm.

 

 _“Sorry_ \-- I’m so-- s- _sorry--_ ” he hiccups, hiding his face from Mark. Mark gently removes Donghyuck’s hands from over his face. His heart aches.

 

“Don’t be sorry.” he whispers.

 

“I just...I _just.”_ Mark tucks Donghyuck back into his side, tracing patterns on the back of his hand.

 

“Stop that.” He pokes a finger to Donghyuck’s temple, rough hands smoothing out the worry wrinkles running deep across his forehead.

 

They sit quietly for a moment. Donghyuck splutters quietly in his arms. Mark cuts him off before he can get the words out. “I told you, don’t apologize-- you did nothing wrong." Mark trails off for a moment. "Well, except for that t-shirt.” Mark looks him up and down, voice shaking with unshed tears of worry, “I can’t believe you would wear a Twice shirt when we’ve established that this is a Red Velvet supremacist household.”

 

(Mark rarely thinks before he speaks.)

 

“...Don’t pit women against each other,” Donghyuck says into his shoulder, words muffled.

 

Mark ruffles his hair with an small, sad smile, “Ah, there you are. Good as new.” He discreetly checks his watch, heart squeezing when he realizes it’s well past midnight. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed. You need some sleep.” He heaves the shivering Donghuyck onto his feet, brushing him off and helping him stumble back to this room. Donghyuck clings to him, shaking. He doesn’t let go, even as Mark tries to maneuver them into the bed.

 

Donghyuck’s trembling hands against Mark’s back prevents him from turning over. His fingertips dig into Mark’s waist. “ _Please_...just for tonight,” Donghyuck pleads quietly, “I...sleep better when I’m hugging something.” Donghyuck looks at him with round, scared eyes, as if Mark is gonna say no, or _worse_.

 

“I could tell as much,” mutters Mark shuffling closer so Donghyuck can snake an arm around his waist.

 

There in the tiny Italian hotel, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the two boys fall into a deep slumber.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_"Per favore, non lasciarmi."_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')))
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _"Lui....e` il tuo ragazzo?" _\- "He...is he your boyfriend?"__
> 
>  
> 
> _"Uh...si. Davvero, e` complicato." _\- "Uh...yeah. Honestly, it's complicated."__
> 
>  
> 
> _"Per favore non lasciarmi." _\- "Please don't leave me."__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _sorry this is late :( things have been messy but i'm trying to get on a regular schedule_  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _thanks for reading and ill see you in the next one <3_  
>  _


	5. montecatini terme

“I owe you an explanation.”

 

It’s Donghyuck. He’s half sitting up in bed, propped up on one elbow and squinting at Mark. His eyes are red and puffy, dried tear tracks glinting in the moonlight.

 

“You don’t _owe_ me anything.” Mark mumbles. The clock reads four a.m in angry red lights. “Nothing but another twelve hours of sleep.”

 

(Mark is starting to get used to waking up in Donghyuck’s arms.)

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

“ _Maaaaarkie-poo, wake up!”_

 

Ugh. It’s Donghyuck again, this time accompanied by the grating sound of the rings of a curtain being pulled across a rod. Light floods the room.

 

The aforementioned boy pats Mark gently on the arm, and then rips the covers off of him. Merciless bastard.

 

“ _Someone’s_ feeling better.” Mark snarks, rubbing at his eyes. He just barely catches the way Donghyuck’s face falls before he pastes on a brave, serious expression, theatrics dropped.

 

“About that...I’m so sorry for last night. You didn’t have to do all that. I _really_ owe you an explanation.”

 

And damn, an explanation sure sounds nice-- but Mark notices the way Donghyuck is trembling, fiddling with his hands by his side, picking at stray threads in his sweatshirt.

 

Whatever it is, Donghyuck clearly isn’t ready to tell him.

 

Mark holds up a hand to cut him off, “What did I tell you last night? Or, well-- this morning. You owe me _nothing_. I mean it. Just...tell me whenever you’re ready. _Really_ ready.”

 

Donghyuck lets out a sigh of relief, a grateful smile softening his features. He turns and busies himself with some things on the other side of the room, probably trying to steady himself.

 

Mark stretches out on the bed, letting out a little happy sigh. He rolls across the bed to reach the clock. Ouch, it’s past one in the afternoon. Not the twelve extra hours Mark had requested, but still plenty long enough for Mark to bet that the bus to Florence left ages ago.

 

Donghyuck’s slightly sour expression confirms Mark’s thoughts, “There’s no way we’re gonna make it to Florence in time. By the time we’d be able to get there, we wouldn’t have enough time to enjoy anything.”

 

Mark stands up and throws open the window, enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face. “Well, I guess we can stay local today, and explore a bit later, yeah?” Mark looks critically at the dark circles lining Donghyuck’s eyes, “...We could use a rest day.”

 

Donghyuck shrugs his agreement.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

The duo begin by eating a late lunch at the hotel, which is equally as disappointing as the hotel breakfast. At this point Mark is just craving nice American french fries. He’s been subsisting almost entirely off pasta for the last five days, so sue him.

 

They wander around the hotel grounds for a little bit. There’s a rarely used porch around the back that they stretch out on, passing the time with a deck of cards and their never ending banter. It’s a nice day, just relaxing and taking photos of the flowers in bloom around the hotel.

 

“Why don’t we go out and explore the city?” Donghyuck suggests, looking restless. From what Mark has gathered from the past few days, the boy likes to be on the move. He agrees quickly and they decide to sniff out some good restaurants for dinner, considering the sun is beginning to set. Pinks and reds spill across the sky as the streetlights come on.

 

They make their way down the hill and walk along the street, looking for a small takeout place. Montecatini Terme is quite sleepy and the side streets are rather deserted, so they plan to wander around with their food rather than sit down. They brush pass a sign outside of a shop. Mark’s eyes widen. He tugs on the back of Donghyuck’s jacket, jerking the boy back to him.

 

“Look,” Mark says breathlessly, “ _French fries.”_

 

Mark could cry. Mark thinks he may actually _be_ crying a little bit.

 

“O-okay?” Donghyuck stutters, surprised, “I guess we can eat here. You can stop crying now.”

 

The bell chimes as they enter the tiny establishment. It’s just a counter with lunch and dinner specials listed on a board behind, and various deserts set up in the glass case beside the register. Mark orders the delicious, beautiful french fries with some chicken from the woman behind the counter and moves aside so Donghyuck can order. The boy orders _another_ pasta and meat dish, the absolute madman.

 

After about ten minutes Mark has his glorious plastic container of fries. He opens them immediately to share them with Donghyuck, but they’re burning hot. The server’s eyes light up and she darts into the back room for a second, coming back with two wooden toothpicks. She motions towards the container of fries. Mark giggles at the idea at first, but eating the fries with a toothpick is surprisingly efficient. Italians really got everything figured out, huh.

 

They stroll down the quiet streets as the clock strikes nine. The streets are narrow, but well lit and cozy. It’s comfortable.

 

“Oh, can you take a picture of me?” Donghyuck grins and rushes into the street, sitting down and posing dramatically. Mark fumbles with his fries, snapping a few pictures as Donghyuck cycles through various dumb Vogue poses.

 

“Now me!” Mark sets down his precious container, handing the phone off to Donghyuck and laying down in the street. “Quick, quick!”

 

“Got it!” Donghyuck yells, before, “Get out of the street, idiot!” he tugs Mark off the road as a car whizzes past. The people in the car hurl various Italian words at them, probably curses. Mark and Donghyuck stumble away from the scene, wheezing with laughter.

 

“That’s the second time I’ve saved your life. What’s up with you and getting run over?”

 

“You went into the street first!” Mark defends himself lamely, “Plus, I’m totally untouchable when I have my knight in shining armor with me.” he says with a teasing grin, shoving at Donghyuck playfully.

 

Donghyuck just laughs at him, but it sounds a little off. They continue their late night photography escapades, sprawling across various benches and quaint tables outside of small eateries, taking aesthetic photos of neon signs, exploring the landmarks of the town. They have no idea where they are, but they aren’t concerned, just enjoying the nightlife and perhaps enjoying being aimless for once.

 

Mark nearly scoffs at the thought. Who would’ve thought stick-up-the-ass Mark would _ever_ enjoy something as spontaneous and lowkey dangerous as strolling along the middle of the road at night, directionless in a town that neither of them had ever been before. That’s a glo up if he’s ever seen one.

 

Donghyuck’s phone rings. He silences it with a small shake of his head. Mark frowns at him, but doesn’t push it. Mark may be more than dense with most social situations, but he likes to think he knows when to leave something alone and when to question it. Usually.

 

Donghyuck pulls him by the hand into a nearby jogging path. It’s enclosed by trees, lampposts sprinkled sporadically throughout it so there are alternating patches of light and dark. He positions Mark right on the edge of a pool of light, in the middle of the path. He crouches, carefully photographing Mark’s silhouette against the image of the path, winding away from sight. Mark turns around and Donghyuck catches some silly photos as well. It’s all well and fun until Mark nearly gets mowed down by a distracted jogger. They decide to move locations.

 

“Oh! Look at that!” Mark yells. In the distance, a large structure looms. It looks like a ferris wheel. Donghyuck reaches over and spears another french fry on his toothpick.

 

“Let’s go check it out.” Donghyuck agrees through a mouthful of fries.

 

After a few minutes of walking, they reach the patch of grass with the ferris wheel. It’s decently sized for being a random amusement park structure in the middle of the town. It looks like there is a little carnival area to the right, but it’s all closed down except for the ferris wheel, which must be the only thing they run late at night. It’s manned by a single bored looking employee. They walk to the booth and pay for two passes. Donghyuck snaps a quick picture of their tickets, held up to the light. They climb the metal stairs to the ride.

 

“We’re the only ones here.” Mark observes, fidgeting slightly. He doesn’t know why that makes him so nervous.

 

The ride is pretty, the neon lights lining the spokes of the wheel softly transitioning between colors. They step into a cart as it comes around, taking opposite seats. The worker trails after them to close and secure the door. With a slight shudder, the cart begins to move.

 

Donghyuck’s jaw clenches ever so slightly and his hands grip onto the railing, knuckles turning white. “What a view.” he says flatly, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the large column in the middle of the car.

 

“D-Donghyuck, are you perhaps...afraid of heights?” Mark holds back his laughter as best he can. Donghyuck’s head whips up, glaring at Mark.

 

“ _No._ ” he says firmly, “I am way too cool to be scared by something like h- _hhhshfbfhbfb--_ ” his sentence dissolves into spluttering as the car rocks a bit. Mark full out laughs now. Donghyuck swats at his arm with a sour look, but his cheeks are flushing. “Oh, shut _up._ ”

 

Mark sticks a hand out. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, to be honest. Donghyuck eyes it suspiciously for a few moments before the wind picks up a bit and he lurches forward to latch onto Mark’s arm. Mark can’t help but feel a little flutter of-- _amusement?_ Yeah, probably amusement and _only_ that-- when Donghyuck grips his hand. He just can’t believe a little altitude is enough to shake the sarcastic legend that is Donghyuck.

 

Mark stares out at the view. It’s dark enough that he can’t make out specific things in the distance, but he can see the lights dotting the town. Looking down, he sees the streets they were wandering on just minutes ago, the glow cast by the street lamps providing plenty of light to illuminate the shops and benches and cars below. In the distance, he sees a bright smudge of light that must be Florence.

 

Donghyuck thrusts his phone at Mark. “Please take pictures for me.” he covers his eyes with his free hand. Mark giggles, but obliges, carefully nudging the phone between the safety bars so that he can get clear, unobstructed pictures.

 

They reach the peak and hover there for a few seconds. Donghyuck peeks through his fingers nervously. “Are we down yet? Oh my god, we are definitely not down yet.”

 

“Just try to enjoy the view.” Mark says, pulling Donghyuck’s hands away from his face. He’s uncomfortably reminded of the prior night, and his heart squeezes a little bit.

 

Donghyuck steals a glance outside the cart. Mark can tell he’s really trying, but his grip on Mark’s hand tightens. Mark’s stomach drops a bit like he’s on a roller coaster. It’s probably the motion of the cart rocking backwards as they descend, totally not the fact that Donghyuck is chewing on his lip and holding Mark’s hand and looking really, really cute and shy.

 

It’s definitely just the ride.

 

Donghyuck breathes deeply. The glow of the ferris wheel’s LEDs bounce off of his features, making it look like he’s radiating light. The lights fade into a deep red as Donghyuck leans closer to him. He looks like he wants to say something, opening and closing his mouth a few times. Mark gulps and struggles to control his own breathing. The cart jerks as they start to rise again. The moment is gone. Whatever Donghyuck was going to say is lost to the wind. They are quiet as the lights shift into a bright blue, carving out their own pocket of the universe.

 

“Oh god. We’re going around again? This is cruel and unusual. What have I done in past life to stick me with this unholy fate.”

 

“Ah, cut the dramatics-- it’s called getting our money’s worth, Hyuck. Why did you even agree to this if you knew you’re scared of heights?”

 

Donghyuck turns his head and mumbles some excuse under his breath, cheek squishing as he sulks into his jacket. They finish the ride silently, just enjoying the stillness of the night, the privacy and seclusion from the rest of the world. It’s their own little bubble up there, and Mark’s heart warms as Donghyuck rewards one of his dumb jokes with a full body laugh, body shaking with the effort. The car shudders, but Donghyuck doesn’t even seem to notice this time, teeth flashing with a bright smile.

 

Mark wants Donghyuck to laugh like that for ever and ever and ever. He can’t help the rush of pride he feels knowing that he was the one who made Donghyuck laugh like that. He has the oddest urge to wrap the boy in a bunch of blankets and make sure nothing like last night ever happens again. He never wants to see Donghyuck cry, ever again.

 

Mark feels weird. It’s probably just motion sickness.

 

He drops Donghyuck’s clammy hand like it’s burning him as they leap off the ride. ~~He doesn’t know why he misses the sensation~~ ~~.~~ “Well, I had fun. Thanks for doing that with me, dude.” Mark says awkwardly. Donghyuck stares at him blankly.

 

“ _Come sei così mozzafiato e ancora così ignaro? Ah, il dolore. Sono stupido per innamorando di te…”_ Donghyuck mutters with an exasperated sigh.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said that ride was fucking stupid and I want ice cream to make up for it.”

 

Mark has a slight feeling that that isn’t the whole truth, but damn he isn’t going to say no to more heavenly gelato.

 

 ~~They~~ _Mark_ thanks the worker as they leave and resume walking around down the street. Mark checks his phone quickly. It’s approaching 10:30, they should hurry before all the shops are closed.

 

“What about that one?” Donghyuck suggests, gesturing towards a small shop with a bright sign saying _Gelataria._

 

Mark shrugs. “Looks as good as anything else.”

 

Donghyuck orders a mango flavor, while Mark, being Mark, orders the most chocolate he can find. He ends up with a split cup of half _cioccolato_ and half _cioccolato fondente_.

 

“You sure know how to branch out.” Donghyuck remarks sarcastically.

 

“I’m a man of tradition.” Mark replies, sticking a small spoon in the ice cream because everyone knows the small spoons are the most fun. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, mumbling what sounds like an “I know” under his breath. Mark dismisses it. Nothing is more important than ice cream.

 

They take seats outside on the cushioned benches. Mark takes a bite of the _cioccolato fondente,_ which should be dark chocolate. His face twists up in confusion; what a weird consistency. He experiments a bit, spreading each flavor of ice cream.

 

“Uhh…” Mark says intelligently.

 

Donghyuck looks over from where he’s trying to prevent his ice cream from dripping onto the floor. “Why are you playing with your food? Is this, like, a weird American thing?”

 

“Uh. I think this is straight up hot fudge? Like...cold…hot fudge. If that makes any sense.”

 

“Most of the things you say don’t make any sense.” Donghyuck snarks as he snatches the spoon out of Mark’s hand, shoveling a scoop into his own mouth. He chews thoughtfully.

 

“Wow. Yeah, that’s literally just hot fudge.”

 

Mark shrugs and polishes off the cup anyways. Chocolate is chocolate, after all.

 

They stand up to leave, but Donghyuck reaches over and tilts Mark’s chin towards him. Mark’s chest is aflame with something weird. Maybe having straight up hot fudge isn’t agreeing with his stomach? Donghyuck rubs at the corner of Mark’s mouth with his thumb, coming away with chocolate smeared across it.

 

“You’re a really messy eater.” Donghyuck laughs and Mark laughs too, albeit a little uneasily. His stomach is still doing flips.

 

Perhaps he should lay off the chocolate for a bit.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

They decide to walk back once the lights in the shop start going off and the workers begin mopping the floors. They retrace their steps as best they can, meandering towards their hotel, just enjoying each other’s company.

 

They eventually come to a fork in the road. To the left is a shady alleyway with five or six figures huddles at the end, cloaked in leather jackets. To their right is a small park enclosed by short hedges. It looks like there are two guys smoking on a bench further out in the middle of the park.

 

Mark and Donghyuck look at each other uneasily for a minute before Donghyuck shrugs. They decide to try their luck with the park. Donghyuck puffs his chest out to act all tough, “I’m your knight in shining armor, remember?” he adopts a battle stance.

 

Mark laughs. “How are you gonna protect me with those sad little arms?” he picks up one of Donghyuck’s arms and lets it dangle.

 

Donghyuck smacks him on the shoulder and rolls his eyes. What a charming guy.

 

They swing open the gates cautiously and begin to walk through the little area. The two guys on the bench are actually blasting Latin music across the park. The chorus of ‘Despacito’ floats over to them.

 

“I think we’re making a connection.” Donghyuck whispers. Mark snickers, inadvertently drawing their attention.

 

 _“Ayyyyy_ _mamacitas!”_ the dudes yell.

 

“Whoops.” Mark wheeze-whispers. Subtlety is not Mark’s forte.

 

“Walk faster, walk faster,” Donghyuck hides a giggle and speeds up a bit. When the guys keep shouting, Mark spies a small gap in the hedges and ducks through it, tugging Donghyuck through as well. They break into a sprint for no real reason-- it isn’t like the guys are chasing them-- but they’re laughing and running back to the hotel. They end up in the lobby with their hands on their knees, catching their breath. Donghyuck gives Mark a blinding smile.

 

“Let’s hit the hay, hey?” he grins. Mark nods and follows him up the stairs. He stares down at his hand as Donghyuck disappears into the bathroom to wash up.

 

Mark can’t shake the feeling of Donghyuck’s hand in his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Come sei così mozzafiato e ancora così ignaro? Ah, il dolore. Sono stupido per innamorando di te…" _\- How are you so breathtaking and yet so oblivious? Ah, the pain. I'm stupid for falling in love with you.__
> 
> __ah....hello D: sorry this took so long!!!! i've got a few chapters prewritten but i honestly havent written for this fic since september thanks to college + two long projects i've been writing for (if ur interested in a jaeyong breakdancers au i just posted it hehe) but i will NOT be abandoning this!! ill try to spread things out until i can get back into the banter-y sweet vibe of this fic (its also been over a year since i visited italy so im a bit rustier now...), i'm a little worried ive lost touch with it but i wont give up :D_ _
> 
> __let me know what you thought! i hope you enjoyed, see you soon <3_ _


	6. firenze

 

They wake up to a bright room, having left the curtains open. Donghyuck is snuggled up under his chin, his back pressed to Mark’s chest. His soft hair tickles Mark’s cheek.

 

“Seriously, again?” Mark groans, poking Donghyuck awake.

 

“Nah, man,” Donghyuck snickers, pointing to the arm Mark has wrapped tightly around Donghyuck’s waist, “this one is all you.”

 

Perhaps Mark is the cuddler.

 

Mark snorts and pushes Donghyuck off him. He gets up to wash up for the day ahead. Donghyuck continues to laze about in the bed.

 

“Oh, and Mark?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

A slow smile spreads onto Donghyuck’s face, “...I wanna be the big spoon next time.”

 

Mark throws a pillow at his head.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

The hotel breakfast is as crunchy and minimalist as ever. The duo climb the stairs and prepare for a day out in Florence. Mark has no idea what to expect; he knew somewhat about Venice and Pisa because they’re such iconic places, but he doesn’t really know much about Florence other than that it’s a worldwide hub for fashion. Or wait, was that Milan? Mark shivers the moment he throws open the window. The sky is overcast, rain currently trickling softly down. It’s chilly, the temperature probably the lowest it’s been the whole trip. He scrambles for his sweatshirt.

 

Oh, _fuck._

 

Mark searches around in his luggage for another several minutes before turning to Donghyuck hopelessly, “...I think I left my sweatshirt at the other hotel.” He can just _see_ the damned thing hanging over that stupid splinter ridden stool. Motherfucker. Now he’s gonna freeze to death in the middle of the streets of Florence. That’s not even remotely close to the dramatic heroic ending he always kinda hoped he’d have.

 

Donghyuck, surprisingly, wriggles out of his own sweatshirt and throws it at Mark’s head.

 

“What is this?”

 

“It’s a sweatshirt, dumbass.”

 

“Okay yes but it’s _your_ sweatshirt, don’t you need it?”

 

“Nah. Italians don’t get cold.” Donghyuck flicks his hair.

 

“Uh-huh,” Mark watches as Donghyuck nonchalantly slips on a leather jacket when he thinks Mark isn’t looking, “Sure.”

 

(NCT University is emblazoned on the front of the sweatshirt. It stirs up a strange feeling in Mark’s gut, but he ignores it. It’s probably just the tree bark and jam breakfast again. It hasn’t been sitting well with him.)

 

They grab their backpacks and exit the room, ready to catch a bus into Florence. Mark shoves his hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt. It’s nice. It smells clean, with just a hint of citrus.

 

Just like Donghyuck.

 

“You know, you’re much nicer after you get a cup of espresso in you.”

 

“Yeah, welcome to Italy.”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

There’s another group crammed onto the bus. They aren’t middle schoolers this time (thankfully), but it does mean that Mark and Donghyuck have to squeeze into side by side seats again. The travel bus is so tiny they nearly end up in each other’s laps. The ride passes fairly quickly, considering there are no bickering children to drown out.

 

Mark hops down the last few steps of the bus, excited to see the city. The duo distance themselves from the large group of tourists and duck down some narrow roads to get into the heart of the city.

 

The small alleyways are laid out very similarly to Venice, with tourist shops and small artisan businesses lining the roads. They eventually emerge into a large square with several ornate buildings stretching high into the sky. Mark squints at the nearby street sign, “ _Piazza San Giovanni._ ”

 

They walk over to one of the imposing buildings, the _Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore,_ the cathedral of Florence. It’s huge, spanning several blocks, and made entirely of marble and limestone in white, green, and red. The style is similar to that of other expensive Italian buildings, especially churches.

 

A huge arch dominates the front of the building, with two smaller arches flanking it. Underneath the main arch is a biblical painting, and angels and swirling figures are carved into the marble around it. Thousands of tiny bordered panels make up the structure, as they do with most of the other buildings in the square. Further up on the building, where the main arch reaches its apex, there is a break in the architecture filled by columns with detailed statues in the gaps. Little turrets and windows jut out at random, arches with statues sprinkled throughout the front of the building. It’s busy and overwhelming, but somehow still very symmetric and beautiful. A large reddish dome sits to the side of the building.

 

As Mark and Donghyuck loop around the square, they see another building, this one narrow but reaching high, high up. It appears to be the bell tower, and is constructed almost like a many-tiered cake. Each level has a different set up: the first one has several white triangular panels flanked in green, then a few feet up the building is constructed out of sculptures in diamonds bordered in reds and greens, swirling gray marble sectioning off the area into a rectangle, and even just going a few inches beyond that the building starts looking completely different.

 

Just as they’re ogling the bell tower, the clock strikes ten o’clock. Chimes ring out throughout the whole square, stunning most of the residents as they sing. After a minute or two, they stop, and activity in the square resumes.

 

“Oh! There’s the basilica.” Donghyuck leads Mark over to octagonal building across from the cathedral. Like the others, it’s made of various green, reds, and whites.

 

“Did they really have _no_ other colors--”

 

“Shut _up_ , Mark! Appreciate the art!”

 

They crowd up to the front gates of the baptistery along with a tour group. Donghyuck manages to get enough space to shove his phone camera through and snap a few pictures of the elaborate gold door. The doors are comprised of twenty-eight panels, painstakingly carved to depict scenes from the Bible.

 

“These are the East Doors.” the tour guide beside them is saying.

 

“The Gates of Paradise…” Donghyuck whispers reverently. “These aren’t the real ones, of course. I believe those are inside the museum where they can be protected by the elements.”

 

They aren’t allowed to go into the baptistery or the church as it’s too early and sermons are happening, so they settle on wandering the square a little more. They stop by a small stand and grab a map, deciding to head to the _Piazza della Signorina_ early on, weaving through the bustling streets.

 

The plaza is a wide open space with a few buildings scattered on the outskirts. The main attractions are the _Galleria dell’Academia_ and the marble statues and fountains that make up the majority of the space.

 

“The _Galleria_ is a fantastic museum, but I’m not sure we’ll be able to get in…” says Donghyuck, staring at the line that wraps around (and around, and around) the building.

 

“We can just start by checking out the sculptures over there, and then maybe we can stop by a tourism station to see if we can get tickets to anything?” Mark pitches. Donghyuck nods.

 

“Wow, you can have good ideas sometimes. Shocker.”

 

They dodge the tourists taking photos in the square and climb the steps into the little outside viewing area set up for people to appreciate the sculptures. The statues are mounted on large stands and tucked into a little enclosure, shielded from the elements. There’s a replica of the statue of David closer to the center of the square. The little platform, flanked by marble lions, is made up of statues of all kinds.

 

“Look at that one!” Donghyuck exclaims, eyes bright. The statue in question looks like an ancient Roman emperor. He’s standing imposingly over the crowd with his right arm bent at the elbow, fingers curling, and the left hand hiking up his robes.

 

“It’s incredible how they made stone look so...silky. It’s so delicate.” he continues, awed. The statue's ‘clothing’ drapes so beautifully it looks soft and almost airy.

 

Another work depicts two men fighting, clubs in their hands. The emotion captured in their poses, their faces, is captivating.

 

(The emotion in Donghyuck’s face is just a bit better.)

 

After walking through the statues, they decide to look for a quick, stop-and-go pizza place for lunch.

 

“How about this one?” Mark just points out the closest one. He’s really hungry. Donghyuck shrugs, which means he gives his blessing, so they duck into the place. There’s no door, just a counter to the right and a tiny dining area to the left with high stools clustered around a few round tables. To Mark’s surprise, several young Spanish teenagers in graphic t shirts are manning the shop.

 

Perhaps ‘manning’ is a strong word. They’re certainly putting out food, but they keep ducking out every three minutes for smoke breaks, and they’re roughhousing behind the counter. Mark watches one teenager put another in a headlock as they blast Despacito (That damn song! Again!) through the store speakers.

 

“Wow. You managed to land us in probably the most Spanish restaurant in all of Italy.” Donghyuck says. “Nice one.”

 

“ _Me_? This was a group effort and you know it.”

 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and begins to talk to one of the teenagers that approaches them with a menu. They decide to go with the simplest thing on the menu, which is a Margherita pizza. Another one of the boys, in a greasy white tank top, brings them their food about ten minutes later.

 

“What the _fuck_ is this.” Mark pokes at the... _thing_ on the plate in front of them.

 

“Florence style pizza, my friend.”

 

Mark scrunches his nose in confusion. The pizza is entirely sauce, with a single glob of mozzarella cheese on each slice, and a basil leaf atop the cheese ball. Mark gingerly picks at a piece. It’s not the worst thing he’s ever tasted, but it isn’t great, either. He picks up another slice, but catches a dirty look thrown at him by the family at a nearby table.

 

“Wh-why are they glaring at me?” Mark sadly sets down his pathetic pizza, eyes darting around nervously.

 

Donghyuck giggles and dabs at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “Well, Mark, my dear American friend, not all of us eat with our hands like barbarians.” He holds up one of the sets of silverware that were on the table that Mark...completely missed. He’s not well known for being ‘observant of his surroundings’ or whatever.

 

One of the rowdy teenagers approaches the table, looking Mark up and down appreciatively. Donghyuck’s grip on his glass of water tightens. The teenager thrusts his phone at Mark. The device is opened to the Spotify app.

 

“Choose!” he says enthusiastically. Mark takes the phone, not sure what to do with it. The teenagers want him to play a song? Well, his eating habits had already exposed him as painfully American so...why not just embrace it.

 

Mark hands the phone back to the teenager and sits back in his seat, satisfied as the first notes of Don’t Stop Believing by Journey play through the speakers. Indeed, it could not get more white American than this.

 

Donghyuck hangs his head in his hands. “Oh my god. Why do I bring you literally anywhere.”

 

“You kinda have to.”

 

“Don’t remind me.”

 

They pay the rowdy teens, (one of which who is still eyeing Mark) and continue on their way.

 

“We should probably find the tourist center, right?” Mark asks. Donghyuck pulls out Google Maps.

 

“I think it’s back by the bell tower.”

 

“So, that way?” Mark points in a random direction. Honestly if you took him three steps outside of his house and spun him around a few times, he wouldn’t be able to find his way home. He’s just trying to be helpful.

 

“No, _tesoro_. Just follow me.”

 

“Stop calling me an idiot! Hey, why are you laughing!”

 

They walk the rough cobblestone paths back to the _Piazza della Signorina_. One of Florence’s main claims to fame is its leather industry, so most of the shops in the area are centered around leather belts and bags, along with the usual tourist shirts, hats, snow globes, keychains, etc. However, there are also a good amount of street artists out.

 

On some of the wider, emptier streets that they pass through, spray paint artists have large sheets of cardboard set up on the ground, cans of spray paint littered around them as they work on galaxy and sunset paintings. Other people are selling framed photography, mostly of Italy, to the side.

 

Suddenly, Mark gets an idea. (This is usually a bad thing).

 

While Donghyuck is absorbed in some photography shop, Mark strolls up to a painter selling prints about the size of regular lined paper.

 

“How much?” Mark asks, pointing to one of the prints. It’s of one of the Venetian bridges, painted in small strokes, little bits of paint caked onto the canvas at a time. The painting is rather small, and is lined up next to three other similar looking pictures, each from a different location in Italy.

 

“Four point fifteen.” the middle aged artist says through a thick accent. 4.15 euros? Cool. Mark can totally bargain that. He’s got this!

 

“How about...two euros?”

 

“No...four point fifteen.” The vendor looks disgruntled.

 

“Well, you see. I’ve only got two euros on me.” Mark says, fiddling with his hands. He’s putting on such a great show. He’s definitely going to nail this thing!

 

The vendor looks downright angry now. “Then leave.” he sneers. Wait, what?

 

“Mark, what the _hell_ are you doing?” Donghyuck rushes up to him, having noticed a certain dumb boy missing from his side.

 

“Bargaining, _duh,_ ” Mark stage-whispers, “Now, can you move aside? You’re going to ruin it.”

 

“Jesus Christ I--ugh,” Donghyuck turns to the artist, looking exasperated, “ _Sono così-- molto mi dispiace per lui, davvero. Lui è...straniero._ ”

 

“ _Sì...è molto ovvio._ ”

 

Donghyuck winces. He pulls out a few bills and shoves it at the artist, taking the print of Venice before pulling Mark away by his hood.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Mark, oh my actual fucking _god--_ what were you doing?”

 

Mark shrugs, kicking a rock by his feet. He watches it skitter into the road. “You told me to bargain if I wanted to get something. It was only like, 4.15 euros? I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

 

Donghyuck slaps at his own cheeks, heaving a big sigh. “Where do I even start. First, he was saying _four per fifteen_ , as in you can get the set for fifteen euro. Second, euros don’t even _work_ like that. Third, _you can’t bargain art!_ ”

 

Mark stares at him. “Whoops.”

 

“You literally just walked up to an artist and told him the _original pieces_ he was selling for fifteen euros was only worth two. Oh my god. No wonder he looked like he was going to deck you.” Donghyuck throws his hands up in the air, “I give up. STEM kids are truly impossible.” He starts walking down the road again.

 

Mark runs to catch up with him. He feels a little bad, but there’s one thing he can’t get off his mind.

 

“So instead of just apologizing and leaving...you bought the print for me?”

 

(Donghyuck turns his head to the side, but Mark catches the tips of his ears turning red anyways.)

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

“Google says the tourist center is the one with the angel carved above the door.”

 

“Mark that’s literally the least helpful thing I’ve ever heard. This is Italy-- there are angel statues everywhere.”

 

“What about that one?”

 

“That’s definitely not it.”

 

“Well why don’t you _look_ before you assume I’m wrong?”

 

“It’s a safe bet.”

 

“Hey, I’m usually right!”

 

“Name literally one time you’ve been right this whole trip.”

 

“...”

 

“Exactly!”

 

“Ugh. You’re awful and I hate you.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

“Yes I do!”

 

“Then why are you blushing?”

 

“I’m not. This is, uh. A rash.”

 

“A rash of _love._ ”

 

“I’m going to throw you off the fucking bell tower, _tesoro._ ”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

Mark sits inside the lobby as Donghyuck argues with the lady at the desk about booking tickets for things like the museum, the famous Duomo, etc.

 

Donghyuck emerges from the small office with a frown. “I couldn’t get us tickets to _anything._ ” he explains dejectedly.

 

“How come?”

 

“So...apparently the Duomo tour is booked for the next three days straight. I guess the structure isn’t super sound so only like fifteen or so people can go in at a time and you really need to get tickets beforehand. Everything else is either closed, it’s past the time that we can visit, or open but we can’t get individual tickets to them so we’d be paying for six attractions and only seeing two.”

 

“Well, this sucks.” Mark’s legs dangle over the edge of the bench. “How are you gonna get your pictures now?”

 

Donghyuck blinks, looking at his camera as if he forgot it was there. “Oh, yeah. The project. Um, there’s got to be more stuff to do in Florence.” he taps his chin. “Oh! We haven’t seen the _Ponte Vecchio_ yet. We can start there.”

 

“ _Ponte--_ huh?”

 

“It means ‘old bridge’. It’s a pretty famous structure in Florence, and the best part…” Donghyuck waves the map at him with a grin, “we don’t need tickets to stand on a bridge.”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

Naturally, Mark once again runs into trouble on the streets. He’s starting to think someone must have put a hex on him, or something, because this just _can’t_ be natural.

 

They’re walking down the sidewalk, heading towards the Arno river, when a man runs up to Mark.

 

“Hey! Nice boy!”

 

Mark (like an idiot) turns around, startled. “Um…?” Donghyuck pauses beside him, raking in the man’s profile. He gives a tired little head shake like he knows what’s going on.

 

“Ah, where are you from?”

 

Donghyuck is giving him a clear ‘Do not engage!” look, but Mark isn’t well known for picking up on social cues. “Uh, America.”

 

“Ooh...America. I’m from Kenya, look at these traditional Kenyan bracelets that I make!” the man whips out a (probably fake) leather bracelet with adjustable string clasps. On the front of the leather is a plastic plate with what looks to be a turtle on it. It’s okay, but not really something Mark is interested in.

 

“Oh, um. Nice, but I’m all set.” Mark fumbles.

 

“No, no! I insist, for you!” the man shoves the bracelet into Mark’s hands, then turns and pushes one at Donghyuck as well. Mark stares at it, sort of lost. Donghyuck looks uncomfortable beside him, like he wants to intervene but doesn’t know how.

 

“I’m...all good, thanks.” Mark tries to hand the bracelet back to the guy again, but the man just takes it and forcibly puts it on Mark, tightening it for him. Mark honestly doesn’t even know how to get it off.

 

“Look at my daughter!” the man pulls out his phone, distracting them with his lock screen. It might as well be a stock image, but it serves its purpose as a distraction. Head spinning, Mark looks up as the guy grins widely at them.

 

“So! How much will you give me for it?” he asks in stilted English, motioning to the bracelets.

 

“Uh, we don’t have any money on us.” says Donghyuck, trying to pull Mark away.

 

“Five euro? How about five euro apiece. Yes?”

 

“ _No._ ” Donghyuck says firmly, but Mark is already caving to the pressure and forking over five euros. That fool.

 

“Oh my god. _Mark,_ you can’t just--” Donghyuck cuts himself off with a sigh and grabs a hold of Mark’s sleeve, dragging him away from the man who is now two bracelets down and five euros richer.

 

“What was that?”

 

“You just got scammed, my friend. I warned you to be careful! God Mark, can you get _anything_ right?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

 

Mark frowns. For some reason, that doesn’t sit well with him. “Hey…”

 

Donghyuck cocks his head. “Just teasing.” he says, a small grin on his face, “Anyways, now we have matching bracelets. How cute!”

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

There are actually three or four bridges spanning the Arno river. The _Ponte Vecchio_ is merely one of them, the oldest and most magnificent. Unlike the others, the _Ponte Vecchio_ still has many shops being built along it, with a few large arches in the middle for tourists to look out over the river.

 

The buildings lining the river are very similar to the ones found in Venice. Most are quite small, almost looking like they’re overlapping in areas, draped in soft oranges, beiges, and pinks and have many windows and balconies. They can see one of the other bridges from this bridge, so Donghyuck props up his camera on the railing and starts to take his scenery pictures as Mark wanders around the bridge.

 

“Hey, look at this.” Mark says. There’s a fountain sitting on the other side of the bridge, with some tourists gathered around it. The inscription identifies it as a monument to someone named Cellini. The fountain is pretty, faces being carved into the four sides of the column that protrudes from the base, water spilling into fanciful bowls ringing the column. A statue sits atop the fountain.

 

The most interesting thing about the whole picture, however, happens to be the gate penning in the fountain. It’s absolutely _covered_ in what looks like...padlocks?

 

“Oh, um. It’s a traditional couple thing. There’s a legend that if you come to the _Ponte Vecchio_ with the love of your life and attach a padlock to pretty much any available part of the bridge and then throw the key into the river, your love will last forever.” Donghyuck says, fidgeting slightly.

 

“Wow...that’s actually quite beautiful.” Mark says, eyes shining. Being so deeply in love like that must be nice.

 

Donghyuck is just staring at him with an indecipherable expression. He looks like there’s something he wants to say, but Mark is sweating under the tension.

 

“Really beautiful, and um. Probably really bad for the native inhabitants of the lake. Uh, swallowing keys and all.” Mark really doesn’t make the situation any better.

 

Donghyuck edges closer to him, taking in a deep breath.

 

“You there!” a voice breaks the atmosphere.

 

Another man, with a rack of beaded bracelets, approaches them, trying to flag them down. Donghyuck rolls his eyes. This bullshit again? Stupid Mark making for such an easy target. It’s the innocent face-- or maybe the brows? Yeah, it’s probably the horrendous eyebrows. Tragic.

 

“Nice bracelet.” the man says with a shark-like smile. Mark self consciously tugs his sleeve over his wrist. He would really rather not be here anymore.

 

“Nope.” he says before the man even busts out a bracelet.

 

“Oh, come on! Don’t you want to hear about--”

 

“No! Oh my god, I’m not interested.” Mark wants to scream.

 

“Don’t be like that.”

 

“Hey, fuck off, buddy. It ain’t gonna work.” Donghyuck steps in, cutting off the man’s spluttering, “Just walk away. Yep, just like that. Leave us alone.” he makes a shooing motion with his hands. Another point for Donghyuck the knight in shining armor!

 

The man, frustrated, takes a bracelet and throws it at Mark’s head. The beaded accessory clatters to the ground. Mark picks it up with two fingers, looking at it.

 

“I mean. It’s yours now, I guess. Just don’t wear it right now, it’ll put a target on your back for other swindlers.”

 

“I got swindled.” Mark replies weakly, but pockets the bracelet anyways.

 

                                                                     ________________________________________________

 

 

After a little bit, Mark starts getting overwhelmed by all the predatory swindlers and touchy artists, so they decide to grab some gelato and move to one of the bridges running parallel to the _Ponte Vecchio._ Thankfully, the bridge furthest from the city is quite open and far less inhabited.

 

Donghyuck, much to Mark’s horror, hoists himself up on the wall overlooking the river.

 

“Hyuck, you could fall!”

 

“Oh, live a little.” Donghyuck says, patting the space next to him invitingly. “It’s big enough that there’s no way I’m gonna fall. Stop thinking so much.”

 

Mark huffs but joins him anyways, tentatively pulling himself up onto the wall. They sit cross legged for a while, just gazing out at the river. It’s quite relaxing, especially after the many twists and turns the day has consisted of. Donghyuck fiddles with a Sudoku puzzle on his phone.

 

“Hey look, a friend!” Mark exclaims, accidentally jolting Donghyuck. As the boy startles, Mark’s hand automatically shoots out to steady him. Awkwardly (of course) he hangs on to Donghyuck’s arm a little longer than necessary.

 

There’s a little furry creature swimming through the river below them. Neither of them know what the hell it is, but it’s entertaining watching the cute lil thing paddle through the river, presumably living in a nest built underneath the bridge. They’re rooting for it, whatever it is.

 

Eventually, they finish their gelato and Mark starts getting antsy. He pulls out the map. “What else can we do here?”

 

“I don’t know. We can tour the leather factory…?” Donghyuck throws out. Mark makes a face. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

 

“What about this?” Mark points to a tiny spot in the very bottom left corner of the map, almost imperceptible. Donghyuck crowds in close to see what he’s referring to, and Mark tries not to flail like a lovestruck middle schooler at the proximity. He only moderately succeeds.

 

“ _Giardini di Boboli_? The Boboli Gardens...hm, I guess we could give it a try. It’s better than wandering around the bell tower for the next three hours.”

 

Mark nods his agreement and hops down from the ledge, offering a hand to Donghyuck. The boy brushes it off with an fake gag, and Mark pretends to be offended. He’s a little offended.

 

“Okay, it’s this way.” Mark says, pointing in the complete opposite direction.

 

Donghyuck doesn’t even try arguing with him this time. He just takes Mark by the shoulders, spins him around, and starts to steer him across the other side of the bridge. They’re headed pretty far away from the main attractions of the city, but the part of Florence across the water is still pretty busy. As they make their way down the sidewalk, the buildings around them grow more run down, graffiti covering every inch of the walls. A few businesses are boarded up, and the streets grow rocky and dirty.

 

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

 

“Not in the slightest.”

 

Mark sighs. Looking closer at the map, they should be taking a right. They end up walking through a labyrinth of narrow alleyways. Mark eyes the rows of homes lining the tiny path, so squished that each door is just a foot away from another.

 

“Is there seriously a garden out here in the middle of all this?” It seems ridiculous, but soon enough, out of absolutely nowhere emerges huge, imposing wrought iron gates, a smooth path leading out of sight beyond them. The gates are sandwiched between the houses, just a brief interruption before the street carries on as normal.

 

The two gape at each other, open mouthed. Who would’ve thought that such a magnificent place would exist lying smack dab in the middle of a run down little neighborhood?

 

The gates are open. To the left is a small building, not much more than a booth. It has glass windows with a gap underneath akin to what you might see at a movie theater.

 

“It’s ten euros to get in.” Donghyuck says, squinting at the sign. He shrugs. “It’s not like we’re gonna get to do much else in Florence, so why not?”

 

They pay for their tickets at the booth and trek up the small hill. They’re immediately met with a large open area surrounded by hedges. To the left is a section that looks like it’s built into the side of a rock. There are three marble statues, the centerpieces of a little fountain. They look like a small family, a mother, father, and child. Around their feet, a calm fountain lies. Koi fish of all colors swim around their feet, and water softly trickles down little grooves in the walls, landing muffled onto the lush moss that creeps up the stone and down into the water. The walls behind the sculptures look like natural gnarled rock and mud, but further up it fades into a beautiful mosaic built entirely of seashells. The delicate shells paint flowers, repeating images of Poseidon’s trident, anchors, and fish.

 

Donghyuck kneels down to get some shots of the fountain, focusing on the artwork that reaches high above their heads. The way he shoots it, the concerned face of the father and the mother, her head resting on his shoulder, populate the very bottom of the image as the shells loom over them. It’s captivating.

 

After they pull themselves away from the entrancing fountain, they head to the right, where there is a gap in the hedges.

 

“Oh, _damn._ ” Mark says. “When I pictured ‘gardens’ I thought of like, one little area with a few bushes and flowers. This place is _huge_!”

 

The path continues straight up the hill, but there is another path that branches off to the right, and one that makes a sharp left. The hedges are probably at least ten feet high and stretch for as far as the eye can see. Even as they walk through them and turn and turn and turn, there is always more path to discover.

 

The gardens around them are absolutely silent. There were a few stray people wandering around the larger entrance area by the fountain, but they, too, have been swallowed up by the garden. The tranquility, nothing but the sound of their footsteps, the sounds of the leaves strewn over the dirt paths crunching and crackling, the sounds of the wind rustling the leaves. Peace settles into Mark’s being.

 

Donghyuck is a little further up ahead. Mark jogs after him, reaching around to cover his eyes. Donghyuck reaches up and grabs at the hands blocking his vision, but settles on gripping Mark’s wrists. Mark shuts his own eyes and spins them around and around, stopping only when both of them are sufficiently dizzy.

 

“What the hell was that for?”

 

“Pick a direction.” Mark laughs to the heavens, eyes still squeezed shut and hands still clasped over Donghyuck’s eyes. Donghyuck’s hands have come up to rest on top of Mark’s. His breath ghosts by Donghyuck’s ear. “Let’s get lost.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Sono così-- molto mi dispiace per lui, davvero. Lui è...straniero.” _\- I'm so-- I'm so sorry for him, really. He's...foreign.__  
>  _“Sì... è molto ovvio.” _\- Yes...it's very obvious.__  
>   
> 
> some foreshadowing in this one heh...hope yall are still enjoying, we've got a pretty interesting few chapters coming up, and i'll be writing for this fic again soon! ALSO I THINK WE'RE GETTING A DREAM COMEBACK SOON ??!!?!!?!?! im gonna fucking cry fjbnfjvnfj
> 
> i just realized that the spacing on my works is kinda large due to how i copy n paste from my google docs, anybody want me to go back and adjust that? not sure if it's a pain to read hehe lemme know
> 
> see ya next time!  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> _Siamo arrivato in Milano _\- We have arrived in Milan__
> 
> _Cosa stavi pensando? Che diavolo ѐ successo? _\- What were you thinking? What the hell happened?__
> 
> so most of this is actually based off my own trip to italy (minus the romance rip), i've been thinking of editing together the videos i took and putting the link here so yall have a visual of the places they go! lemme kno if thats something youd be interesting in hfjnskjfnkjfn i have about 35k of this written so there is So Much More to come, but i'll be moving into school really soon so,, please be gentle with me about updates lmao... the next update should be pretty soon bc this was just an intro hehe !! i hope you'll stick with me through it bc this fic is like my baby
> 
> a big thank u to eston for telling me to write this when i first got the idea and to sage for validating me enough 2 post it <3
> 
> drop a comment if you like it so far, and come chat with me/ask me questions/suggest things !!
> 
> twitter: pixeljunnie  
> curiouscat: pixinoa  
> tellonym: diotima


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